“Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise!” . (Wallace Stevens)
Alas, the real Spring has tossed its Marseilles wrap onto the steps and finally settled in, at least since 6:45 last night. My beloved and I humbly await a season of rejuvenation, rebirth, reconciliation, and a hefty bolster of hope. The season here in the Hinterlands is not as I’ve ever seen.
Earlier, bouquets of Star Magnolias announced the Majestic Bartlett Pear Festival, the weeklong event that traditionally ends with neither fanfare nor souvenirs. The only remnants of such a celebration are the strewn and still moist petals, poised to wither.
Weather alert and advisory: the ever-tardy April showers signed the guestbook on May 22.
(Image: “Self-Portrait as Skyscraper” by Julie Heffernan, 2009.)