Good morning! Here it is, Tuesday, the week before Easter. (If you missed it, here is my special edition on Easter from a few weeks ago.) I do not have myself together at all this year (myself seems to be on a sort of hiatus, doing who knows what but certainly not attending to regular things in any kind of functional manner), so we’re not doing an egg hunt. My mom and grandma will come this weekend to dye eggs — we’ve been doing that since I was tiny and I’m not about to stop now, even if I forgot the dang holiday entirely — but otherwise all is normal (or, normal for still-living-in-this-pandemic). Nevertheless the wheel turns — my human feelings have zero impact on anything at all, the continued realization of which always puts me back into right-sized thinking, a reminder of my holy humility (that I am not always happy to receive, if I’m being honest, but it grounds me and I often need that). The babiest greens are pushing through the snow melt-softened earth; there are buds on most of the trees. I’m keeping an eye out for the soft surprise of new spruce tips. It’s blustery as all get out here, which is equal parts annoying and refreshing and means one thing: spring is blowing in.
So grateful you write words and share. I would read your thoughts on any topic, and I am so glad I get the chance too. And yes to all that bluster of the wind!
So grateful you write words and share. I would read your thoughts on any topic, and I am so glad I get the chance too. And yes to all that bluster of the wind!