from Les Blank.
In April of 1858, Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy wrote to Alexandra Tolstoy, his aunt twice-removed and his closest confidante. He called her babushka,or grandmother, as a sort of joke, although she wasn’t much older than him. He wrote:
“Babushka! It’s spring! It is so good to be alive on this earth, for all good people and even for such as I. Nature, the air, everything is drenched in hope, future, a wonderful future. … When I think about it more soberly, I know perfectly well I am nothing but an old frozen potato, rotten, cooked and served up with a tasteless sauce full of lumps, but the springtime has such a powerful effect on me that I sometimes catch myself imagining I am a plant that has just opened and spread its leaves among all the other plants and is going to grow up simply, peacefully and joyfully on the good Lord’s earth. … Make way for this wonderful plant that is filling out its buds and growing in the spring.”