Unwritten April
An April Reflection on Folklore, Nature, and Changing Course
It’s raining as I am here writing this – typical April weather. The kind of rain that does not respect your plans or your boots. It just arrives, without any excuse. The sky has been changing all day, first the sun in the morning, then wind at noon, and now the sky is overcast with rain that is hitting the window.
Something about this month always seems to surprise me.
In January, I told myself that I was going to make more time for joy that was not planned. You know, those unexpected diversions: the long, leisurely walks, the spontaneous day trips, the idle afternoons with no place to be. But, as it often does, that promise was eventually pushed to the side by the pile of to-do lists, deadlines, and ‘maybe next weeks.’
It wasn’t neglect. It was life.
And now here we are, in April’s unpredictability. It feels poetic, really. This is the month the world shrugs off the need to be consistent. Maybe we’re allowed to do the same.
The Trickster in the Calendar
April is a month of folklore, pranks, and paradoxes. The weather misbehaves. Plans shift. The ground is soaked and unstable, and yet, there is something that is slowly coming to life from the earth.
In mythology, the trickster is a familiar archetype, part disruptor, part awakener. Tricksters don’t follow the rules. They flip expectations upside down, nudge us out of the familiar, and remind us that not all change comes gently. They stir the pot not to destroy, but to transform.
April does the same.
It’s not here to soothe. It’s here to surprise. To remind us that we don’t control the weather, or much of anything, really. And that maybe, just maybe, there's freedom in that.
Let the Weather Lead the Way
Nature in April is a mirror. It doesn’t give us balance; it gives us contrast. Storm and sunlight, warm and cold, blossoms and naked branches, all at once.
Where I live, this time of year is often called the mud season. Trails are messy. Grass is slow to return. The ground hasn’t decided who it wants to be yet. But still, something is shifting.
You can’t walk a muddy path the way you’d walk a dry one. You tread differently—slower, more mindful, more alert. You become aware of where you’re stepping. You notice things you’d rush past in summer.
I’ve started to wonder if this is part of the lesson.
What if the messiness, the lack of clarity, the inconsistent steps, what if that is the practice?
Not everything needs to bloom right away. Not everything should.
Sometimes, we’re meant to wade through the in-between.
“It is spring again. The Earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.”
- Rainer Maria Rilke
Permission to Change Course
There’s something so human about sticking to the plan, even when the plan isn’t working. We cling to what we said we’d do, who we thought we’d be, what we imagined this season would look like.
But April doesn’t do that. April changes its mind—over and over again.
And I think there’s something sacred in that.
In coaching, I often talk with people who feel stuck, not because they don’t have ideas or goals, but because they’re afraid to pivot. Afraid to leave behind something they once committed to. As if changing course somehow means they’ve failed.
But here’s what I’m learning: The plan isn’t sacred. You are.
You don’t owe consistency to anyone, not even to the version of you who made the plan.
If life has thrown you a curveball lately, if things feel misaligned, off-course, or less like a bloom and more like a mess, consider this your permission slip. Not to fix it. But to shift with it.
Let the storm pass through. Let the ground get muddy. And then… move differently.
A Season Worth Trusting
As I finish writing, the sky is changing again. It’s raining, but the rain is almost done. The light is that soft gold-grey that only comes in early spring.
April is doing what it always does: reminding me that control is a myth, and wonder is still available, even in the mess.
So if you’ve fallen off track, if you’re standing ankle-deep in life’s mud, if your intentions feel a little soggy, take heart. This season isn’t out to get you. It’s out to tell you that something new can grow.
All you have to do is stay open to it.
Sometimes, when the inner world gets too chaotic, I turn to scent to help me come back to my physical body. Just one inhale can shift the moment. The right note, citrus, floral, resinous, grounds me, even if nothing else makes sense. It’s like a weather pattern for the soul: a quiet way of resetting the internal forecast.
A Question to Walk With
What if life’s disruptions are the places where new stories begin?
Let that one live with you a while. Carry it on your next rainy walk. Write it in the margins of your journal. Or just let it echo quietly in the background, like a trickle of rain that makes everything grow.
Need a Boost? Try a Roll-On Botanical to enhance your day. Click here to find your scent.
Interested in embarking on your transformative journey? Click here to learn more about working together.
Looking to add more creative and enjoyable ways to enhance different aspects of your well-being? Click here to download my free interactive guide.