Let's Be Honest
When I was a kid (I was a weird kid) I remember spending Aprils in my bedroom with a flashlight, a book of scary stories from my very large scary story collection, and an open window listening to the rain outside. For some reason I can only remember reading those books and writing my own scary stories in the post-snow/pre-green months. This I'm sure has to do with the string of funerals I went to as a younger child one spring. My family was big on the open caskets, and while the dead people never bothered me in the least I can still picture all those horrible white giant lilies surrounding coffins and Easter masses. If there was a poster icon for the word pungent it is those drooping, demonic, flowers. To this day their smell reminds me of embalming fluid and decaying bodies. My mother had to stop putting them in our house as decorations after I passed out in front of the entire congregation one Easter from the smell of them in church. Literally just dropped over.
Here in the northeast spring arrives like a gross ass lily. A putrid zombie, everything rotting, wet, cold and dripping. There's life, sure, but it's disgusting. The earth is yellow and green, still frozen below and churning. Decay is in a battle and losing, slowly, to the lush life of May and June, but in April there is nothing but combat and the effort makes me queazy. I can cut off a chickens head, pluck it, gut it, and set it in sink to cool down and none of that is even remotely as violent and vulgar as an early April morning on this farm. You walk outside and the whole world is chicken shit, mud, placenta, blood, rotting compost, dead trees, and a total lack of color. Some people feel this way about October, for the same reasons I am sure. The shoulder seasons and months of intense change mess up our body clocks. But my hardwiring is preset for Autumn, which is more a home to me than anything or anyone else I have ever known. April is as far away as you can get from Holy October. So I call it Demonic April and I will continue feeling like something has sucked out my endorphins and is waiting to eat my brains until Beltane. Talk about a reason for a party. It might as well be called Survival Potluck Bash Funhouse.
I know plenty of you think April is the best thing to happen since the 11th Doctor, but I am not one of you. I do respect you have the right to your own lifestyle choices. Just cut me a wide berth this month you, you.. April lovers.
I need a shower now.