April is the cruelest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain -T.S. Eliot, “The Wasteland”

Eliot wrote The Wasteland after the last pandemic; it was published in 1922. A century later, I’ve been thinking of those lines as I watch the flowers bloom outside my home office window. When my wife asked what I was looking at, I told her that there should not be such beauty in the world. I think it’s easier to navigate greys and tans than vibrant primary colors.

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