There are doubtful days in April, to be sure, but with the arrival of this “Lady” comes spring with all of its temptations.  And I reach out to her like a lover, trusting every warm ray of sun, instead of waiting for her more predictable sister May.

This is the time to take rake in hand and remove the tangles and trash left hidden by snow and last fall’s tall leaning grass.  But there are a thousand purple violet faces peering at me from the green tips of the new lawn now.  I cannot disturb their day in the sun, and so I lean upon my rake and look back.

This is the time to pull dead leaves and winter browned plants from flowerbeds.  Now too is the time of the crocus, the daffodil and tulip, and wouldn’t it be safer for these beauties if I left the old plants around them as partial protection against the still chill nights – for now at least?

April has distractions.

This is the time to take the broom and bag to the garage where the winter and March have blown in leaves and dirt.  There is half a day’s work there at least.  But in the distant river coves I can hear the peepers sing and my mind wanders to other places.  The smelt net hanging on the wall doesn’t help, nor does the stained canvas trout creel beside it. I lean against the wall and look at the remnants of last year’s worm beds in the old washtub.

A breeze swirls a few dead leaves past my feet and against the far wall of the garage.  It is gentle and deceptively warm and I wonder at the progress of the leeks in the woods.  April is also fickle!

This is the time to wash the windows, to slide back the storms and clean the screens.  And the eves should be cleared of leaves that stem the drain of springtime rain. Forsythia is reflected in the windowpanes, as are the bulging lilac buds.  And when I climb too near the eves the birds are frightened from their chores of finding twigs and building nests.  Their nervous scolding should not go unheeded.

April has distractions.

Just this once I think I’ll take a day and drive upstate a ways.  I hear the steelhead trout have come and it is fun just to walk the river’s banks.  It’s a thrill to simply watch their giant silver bodies flash as they scoop out breeding places where the gravel’s right.  And I can check the progress of the wild onions while I’m there, and see if any mushrooms have been coaxed early by the warming sun.  The wildflowers will have begun to bloom anyway, so the looking will be nice.

Just this once I think I’ll stay a little late and see if the smelt are waiting at the river’s mouth to be enticed by the warming waters from upstream.

This month has powers to distract.

Maybe next week I can rake tangles from the grass and pull the dead plants from the flowerbeds.  The windows will wash better when I can concentrate and the birds may have their nests nearly built.  I want to paint the inside of the garage when I clean it, and now it’s still too cold for that.

Such are the distractions of April and I am doomed to the pain of a guilty conscience.