It’s the last day of April.
I just realised that I didn’t get to express my warm, fuzzy appreciation for what this month means and represents to me. And so before it is gone forever, for yet another year, I must do that.
For me, April, like September, is lyrical. Exactly like a song I don’t want to end.
I witness the melody and lyrics in the sights and pictures around me. And I hear the music in the sounds and voices that fill every April day.
There is a humming and purring in each day that compel me to take notice of the world at this time of year.
Here in Melbourne, it’s autumn, and for the past week I have been taking pictures of the trees as they change colour and recording the whispers of the leaves they shade. And only one word does them justice…beautiful.
My fondness for April also bears memories….precious memories.
When I was little and growing up in Zambia, April was the harvest month for us. After enjoying the fresh fruits of our labour, it was time to pick the ears of corn that had been left in the fields to dry. I remember the joy I found in this labourous task.
The sun would be hot and majestic, showing off its glory as we worked our way through the field, row by row. It was as if the sun was smiling down on us, jubilant with us over our harvest.
The dry corn stalks under our feet would crackle and make music as we went along. The air would fill with smoke from neighbouring fields as the farmers set fire to the dry mass of stalks, grass and weeds in preparation for the next planting season. I loved the smell of that smoke.
And most of the fields by this time would be invaded by hundreds of tiny, yellow, daisy-like flowers. They bloomed everywhere. I called them my stubborn April flowers. They sweetly haunt me to this day…more so every April.
To me, that labour in the corn fields, the sun, smoke, flowers, and sounds were beauty incarnate.
And this is what I remember even many years later.
Here I am now, all grown up, and a lady if I may say so myself. I feel I have experienced a bit of life’s full circle.
And that is something I don’t want you to miss. And the only way you cannot miss that is if you pay attention…to yourself.
I’ve watched April come and go year after year, and every time I listen to the changes in myself and around me.
I have come to see that for me, learning and growing comes by watching and observing. I hear voices everywhere I go and this is why I can see meaning in what may appear meaningless and see beauty in plainness.
And if I can share one thing with you in my romantic ramblings on the last day of my favourite month, it is that you learn to see beauty – the kind of beauty that inspires and is unfading.
There is often something more going on in our lives and daily situations, and to see the beauty, you might need to use your eyes, mind and heart – all at the same time.