March was a moody storyteller who couldn't decide on a genre. It began with a world encased in gray ice, the trees standing like brittle skeletons against a white sky. The air was sharp, biting at exposed cheeks, and the ground was hard as iron.
April was the month of the rain. It was a relentless, soaking drizzle that misted the windows and turned the garden into a bog. It was a cold rain, often mixed with sleet, chilling the bone. But this was the necessary work. months in the spring
April is often considered the most beautiful month of spring. The days are growing longer and warmer, and the world is in full bloom. Trees burst forth with greenery, flowers bloom in every color of the rainbow, and the air is filled with the sweet scent of blossoms. March was a moody storyteller who couldn't decide on a genre