It has been a most unlikely Good Friday, ending a most unlikely Lent.
Good Friday is so often accompanied by grey and gloomy weather, if not outright sturm und drang. Today was soft and gentle, the birds chirping madly, and everywhere are signs of Spring creeping toward us.
Lent has been rather like that - soft and gentle. At least on the surface. I never did get around to settling on a specific Lenten fast to adhere to. I didn't give up chocolate or movies or music. Instead, it has been six weeks of trying to keep my head above water, settling in after the move, learning a new job, and tackling a rather unnerving public speaking engagement. There have been spiritual, mental, and emotional challenges... sturm und drang enough for any epic by those German romantics. What will Easter be like after a Lent such as that?
For about a week now, work has been going on in the vineyards, trimming and pruning. It occurs to me a trim and a prune (verb, not noun) would be most welcome; to have all the dead Tess cut away to allow a vigorous surge of new growth, new life, new man.
After a frantic few weeks, I made the difficult decision to stay here in my little flat in Lake Town for the Easter Triduum. The Peanuts are at Oma's house on the other side of the Lake. Tomorrow I shall go to the shore to shout out the usual salute: "Helloooo Ommaaaa" (In manner of, "Hellooo New Jersey!" If that doesn't ring a bell, I can't explain it.) They will be having a wonderful time. There is nobody like an Oma to make any occasion special.
I am soaking up the quiet, trying to absorb the peace deep within myself. I sit in the front window, drinking Sleepy Time tea, watching the shadows lengthen across the lawn as the clouds darken from pink to mauve. I may watch Into Great Silence a little later on... or I might put my head back, close my eyes, and just be.