Tag Archives: Spring

Crazy for April

I was driving one morning, struggling with a tiredness that spring hadn’t repaired, when I heard an essayist on the radio tell me something new. “April is the cruelest month,” he said, quoting the famous opening of “The Waste Land.” … Continue reading

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The Perfect Egg

What makes the egg so perfect? What makes it possible to even use that word, in such imperfect times? Could it be Spring itself that elevates anything which encompasses shape, symbol and sustenance in a single entity? Bring it on, … Continue reading

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