Spring is Here, I Hear

We're all fools in April. It's the sunshine, I think, or perhaps the green on the trees. We hope that our own lives will unfurl like buds that were hidden all winter. We not only hope, but for a few minutes, here and there, we feel that our time will come. I felt like that when I was sixteen, that life was full of wonderful surprises that were just waiting to shower me with happiness, and in spring, in early April at least, some faint hint of that resonates through me. Somehow calling this "Topsy Turvy Day" and trotting out my ritual meal for whatever small children are around me seems a bit like a slap in Fate's face, but there you go: even if I'm alone, every April Fools Day sees me serving meatloaf with mashed potatoes dressed up as cupcakes, and cupcakes decorated like spaghetti and meatballs, and possibly a "fried egg" made of creme anglaise and half a poached apricot (with a sprinkle of nutmeg on top.) Like that rhododendron out front--the one that's almost dead--I struggle to bloom yet again.