After months of taunting us with their bare branches that only made the bleak and tedious winter more tiresome, the trees have popped into spring to show us what they can do. Oozing with leafy spring, dripping cherry blossoms and seeds, Mother Nature implores us to fall in love again. Fall in love with each other, fall in love with nature, fall in love with life.
The blooms that the trees have kept selfishly secret all these months are thrown forward for all the world to see. it's the srping, the smell and the look of her, that keeps me agnostic. A perfect sunny afternoon spent under a leafy tree with a good book or an even better kisser won't put my faith in theology, but it brings out a gratefulness for no tangible recipient, and I think it's perfectly reasonable to have a crisis of non-faith based on the smell of lilacs.
Back to the infamous English papers