For some reason Madeline L’Engle’s book, The Irrational Season, has been on my mind a lot lately. Not so much the book—which is wonderful, but which I haven’t read for years—but its title. Just the title. I feel as if I am living in an “irrational season.” A tumult of emotions that are not easy to explain rationally. A living paradox, maybe. A seemingly irrational season.