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So writes the poet T. S. Eliot. I know he wasn't a trout fisherman, but he clearly understands what April is like for those of us who are.
Jeremiah and I had been looking forward all week to a trip to the lake this evening. It didn't turn out quite like we hoped. Last Friday was so warm and calm. But today the wind came up really strong and the temperature went way down. By the time we finally gave up we were shivering.
On the way home he said--over the roar of the heater set at full blast--"Let's go back in May." That's OK with me, assuming it will be warm in May.
But, then again, we don't mean it. It would be unthinkable to miss April; when it's not cruel it can be so nice.