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Happy Easter!

Happy Easter!

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The trees are at their loveliest. “Nature’s first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold.” The azaleas shine out in their jewel tones, and there are buds on the rose bush by the deck stairs.


The refrigerator is stuffed with au gratin potatoes, deviled eggs, ambrosia salad, baked turkey — and asparagus and lamb that will be roasted today. Behind me, the smell of chocolate wafts from filled Easter baskets.

Soon it will be time to navigate the parking lot at church in hopes of scoring a seat at the 9:15 mass, to hear the words of that old story that is sometimes hard to believe but today seems completely possible. Soon it will be time to greet the family and friends coming here for an afternoon feast. 
But for now, for these quiet early moments, I have Easter all to myself.

(Mission San Xavier del Bac, Tucson, Arizona, built in 1797)
Dispensation

Dispensation

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This year the Bishop of Arlington has granted the diocese a dispensation from the usual Lenten Friday abstinence from meat so that Irish Catholics can enjoy their corned beef. There’s a slight catch. You’re supposed to undertake a work of charity or act of comparable penance some other time to make up for it.

Fair enough. But it’s one of those cringe-worthy Catholic moments. Will we really be judged on such details? Yes, obedience is important, but what about the spirit of the law?

I think I’ll forego meat just for the heck of it. But the Bailey’s — I’ll have a sip of that, thank you very much!

(Photo: allrecipes.com)

Trees’ Company

Trees’ Company

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I recall a line from a poem by James Clarence Harvey: “Oh, the saddest of sights in this world of sin/Is a little lost pup with his tail tucked in.”

Not that my heart wouldn’t melt at the sight of a little lost pup, but a sad sight all too common this time of year are Christmas trees beside the road. There they are, the once-proud bearers of bright lights and family ornaments — now reduced to so much yard waste.
These two have the right idea, though. A stiff northwest wind rolled them together the other day, and now they’re partners in crime/shame/escape. May they live forever in mulch heaven. 
Around the Corner

Around the Corner

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Last year’s Epiphany I came across a bevy of colorful scarves draped on trees and banisters and railings. It was a “scarf bombing,” part of an organized effort to help those who have no way to come in from the cold.

It was, I thought, the perfect expression of the day, a moment of revelation in wool and worsted.

Today, nothing so epiphanous. Today, a typical work-at-home day, the views and contours familiar and unsurprising.

By definition, though, sudden revelations can happen at any time. So while I may not be cleansed by clarity now, I may be later today or tomorrow or sometime next week.

In other words, I’m trying to live as if inspiration is just around the corner.

Into the Future

Into the Future

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Yes, we counted down the seconds last night. A room full of people with noisemakers and champagne and funny hats.  Out with the old and in with the new.

But for me, 2017 started with this winter morning, with the run I just took along familiar routes, waves to neighbors, music and talking in my ear.

And it started even earlier, with a cup of tea and my journal, reading last year’s entries, pondering resolutions, writing my way into the future.

Fast Away

Fast Away

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It’s only a matter of hours now for 2016, this crazy leap year with so many changes (new job and wedding; show-stopping election) that we needed an extra day to pack ’em in.

One thing about years now: They pass so quickly that it almost seems pointless to make a big fuss over their arrivals and departures.

But still, a year change is a moment, and so I will mark it now in this quiet living room with the tree still in full holiday regalia, books and journal by my side, three loads of laundry, a tidied freezer and vacuumed floor under my belt. The price I pay for writing time, a price I may have to stop paying if I’m ever to write more than these blog posts. And if there’s a hint of a resolution in there, so much the better!

Fast away the old year passes … whether marked by sundial or computer clock … it passes …

Holiday House

Holiday House

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Yesterday I met my brother for lunch at the local mega-mall. It was wonderful to see him — but I made quick work of the venue, got in and out as quickly as I could. More shopping? I don’t think so.

Instead,  I made my way quickly back here, where I could bounce on the trampoline and do a little yard work in the suddenly 60-degree temps. As the day darkened, I came inside to bask in the tree and the bowl of red glass apples that catch the light and transform it.

These holiday sights soothe the soul; the holiday occupations do, too. I spent a couple of hours last night turning the last of the cookie dough into crispy, sugared wreaths, bells and angels.

It’s all part of the holiday house. I want to keep it here as long as possible.

Mid-Pause

Mid-Pause

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Here I’m enjoying the Great Pause, which in part has meant a blog pause, though not for long because, well, writing here is what I do.

I love the disorientation this time of year brings. Is it Monday? Tuesday? Should I start watching a movie at 10 p.m.? Why not?

The trick is to balance the vegging with small, discrete tasks. Tidy up the area under the bathroom sink. Look through one of the boxes from Lexington, Mom’s things, an activity that must be reserved for moments of lightness and strength. (Come to think of it, that may have to wait.)

Most of all, time for reading, writing, talking and walking. Four of my favorite things.

Ancient Music

Ancient Music

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“Joy to the World”: 1719.

“Hark, the Herald Angels Sing”: 1739.

“O Come, All Ye Faithful”: 1751.

“The First Noel”: 1823.

“We Three Kings”: 1857.

The music we sing at Christmas has been around for a while. I think of this especially with Advent carols like “O Come, O Come Emmanuel, which traces its origins back to the 12th century or earlier.

These are ancient chants, tunes that link us to generations of worshippers and carolers.

It’s one part of the season that never changes, the words and melodies we learned before we could read, ribbons of song that tie us to the past, that carry with them the promise of hope fulfilled.

Balancing Act

Balancing Act

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Here at the office, a holiday frenzy: Let’s see how much work we can do before the end of the year.

For me, just the opposite impulse.

It’s almost Solstice. The nights are long and the mornings are cold. Inside, only the tree lights and a little holiday lamp are illuminated. It’s dim and comfy and inviting.

These are days to savor: baking, writing cards, making and wrapping gifts. These are the days leading up to the Great Pause.

I’m trying to let the hurry flow over me. It will get where it’s going — but I won’t be with it.