Here, an ode to ye great April. You have arrived. April's showers are not simply the means to the May flowers. It ought to be that they are appreciated for their intrinsic value. While March rudely awakens us from the hibernation of winter's wrath, April is the birth of our soul. In the midsts of the rains which darken our homes, disguised in its depressive form comes inspiration. While the roads seem winding and dreary, in fact we bid goodbye to the past and have this chance to be reborn again, baptized in the rains of Oster-monat. This is the time of self. At the heigh of lent for some we pay the utmost attention to ourselves. What we consume, deny ourselves, and desire become studies done in darkened rooms with sounds of black and white movies. Yes, there is something quite romantic hidden in the curtain of grey doom and droplets of water which etch at our rain coats. We express our bravery as we dare counter the bitterness of the winter which sweeps every once in a while. We are brave warriors in light coats, sunglasses which cover the larger part of our faces, and ballerina flats which tease cold winds with small peaks of our fragile skin.
Personally, I see April as one of the top months during which I pay especially close attention to my wardrobe. It allows me to mix the two polar worlds of winter and summer. The blandness of the colors worn can be broken by this year's exceptional stream of soft pink flowers. The blush on my face is particularly noticeable, which serves to tease the cold and let it know that I am aware that Le beau temps arrive!
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