I seem destined to find residual gritty clumps of icy mud if I don't wear my boots.
Suddenly the pot of Christmas greens still on the porch is utterly inappropriate.
When do the Easter lilies and hot cross buns and chocolate go on sale?
The snow is mostly gone but I still want a fire by evening.
The sunshine is seductive but the wind is still cold.
We're starting to talk about the cottage.
So glad I don't have a dog.Roll up the rim.
Lent.
Winter was hard.
But new life is stirring now.
Fasting reveals unknown longings.
Longer days encourage hearts and lift spirits.
The promise of Resurrection begins in a whisper.
So much in the story of it to be thoroughly gob-smacked by.
Every Eucharist holds me more fiercely in its remembrance dance of wonder.
The closer I get to The Morning the more I just want to worship in the strength of it.
Sorrow held fast in the grip of despair, released from my chest, gives way to the party.
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