Capricious April

"Snow in April is abominable," said Anne. "Like a slap in the face when you expected a kiss." — Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

April in England is unpredictable. Every year, it's unpredictable. April is so constantly unpredictable, so capricious that one could reasonably say that April is predictable in it's capriciousness, constant in its unpredictability. We know by now not to rely on April, and we know to rely on it absolutely, to expect the unexpected.

The weather masters attempt to predict April. They frequently fail. They tell us rain, and sunshine appears, they tell us sunshine, and then it snows. Hail is not uncommon. Rainbows are plentiful. April throws us off balance, messes with our plans, reduces reasonable people to fools, whilst the fools knowing nothing of tomorrow, or yesterday, having no expectations, simply enjoy the moment, drink up the rain, bask in the sun, marvel at the rainbows, shake the trees and make angels out of blossoms and snow.

I've always thought of myself as October. I love the autumn, delighting in the colour changes, the elegantly falling leaves, the golden-red carpets covering pavements and parks, the cooling air, the stillness, the slow, out-breath. Autumn, I've always told myself, is my season, my nature. Yet this past month I woke up to my inner April, that mad, unpredictable imp, loosening his tethers, changing his mind, and clamouring to get out, to be heard. I am you, he shouts, and laughs, October indeed!

Feeling rather contrite, I take a step back from my object self, my romanticisms, my rambling story. My Autumn fantasy evaporates like a dream, flies away like a theatrical backdrop, revealing an empty space, exposing the illusion. Ah yes, okay. October is other people. Autumn is my myth. This madness of weather, this contrary April, this ridiculous not-knowing, that is what connects me to the world. And as I write this, two prayers come to mind, and I see, or my imp tells me, these are April prayers. Why did I not see that before? Because I was autumn-eyed, looking down, falling.

The Thomas Merton prayer begins

"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so."

And the Michael Leunig prayer, in its entirety, reads thus:

God, give us rain when we expect sun.
Give us music when we expect trouble.
Give us tears when we expect breakfast.
Give us dreams when we expect a storm.
Give us a stray dog when we expect congratulations.
God play with us, turn us sideways and around.
Amen.

My life, and by extension the life of my family is as capricious as April. Perhaps I created this, or it occurred through mutual attraction, April-meets-April, or divine grace. No matter, here we are, Rayna and I and our two rather baffled, but hopefully, ultimately adaptable daughters. We never seem to quite know what we are doing from one day to the next. Plans change, drastically, marvellously, leaving us wide-eyed, and asking each other, "how did that happen?" And then a rainbow.

April News

April is also a month of birthdays, my sons Ty and Finn celebrate on the 12th and 13th, this year turning 22 and 24 respectively. Rayna is on the 15th, her sister Ashley on the 21st and Zoë on the 26th. A rainbow appeared the evening before Zoë's birthday. She was already asleep, so missed it. Hence the photograph. Rayna's birthday was a series of mishaps. Like the weather that day, little went to plan. Zoë's birthday was more successful. Rayna and Asrai baked a vegan apple cake, while Zoë and I went birthday shopping. And her party was a lot of fun, nine children and six parents, reminding us that our flat is really quite big—and showing us we are making friends, here in Sheffield.

We continue to house-hunt, now switching our gaze from the north-east to the north-west. As we get to know the city, and to meet people, we gain a better sense of where we want to live. It would be nice to find somewhere soon, but on the other hand, we need to feel our way into this better than we've done so far, having been driven more by urgency, less by discernment. We've thrice been rescued from poor decisions by a vigilant, and very passionate surveyor, whose last name, Bell, is our wake up call.

Once again, thanks for reading, and may the slightly more faithful month of May embrace you with open arms, and a warm kiss.

Tobias

April Writing

1st May 2018, 9.00 pm