I don't know about you but when I woke up and saw the sun streaming into my kitchen, I felt just a little bit saved. The house and everything around was lit up in a way that I hadn't felt in months.
Drop shoulders. Exhale. Spring is here.
And even though those damn dirt piles are still across the street, Elizabeth has me believing that my neighbor is going to plant a garden; that something beautiful is going to come out of those big old piles of dirt and rock. Okay, I believe. All the rain we've had has at least shrunk the suckers down a couple of feet.
So it's Maundy Thursday. What is that anyway? I should know these things since I'm a certified preacher's kid. Or is that certifiable? I'll ask Dad to explain, again. Mom used to say ,"I'm going to Maundy Thursday service," or something like that, when we'd talk on the phone. I liked the way it sounded, and the way she said it. Very British.
Michael's cooking one of his famous shrimp dinners right now and Dad is with us for a few days. It's April First, April Fool's, Mark's birthday [my brother-in-law out in California]. The forsythia is blazing. And this is a ramble, plain and simple.
I found this quote from a daily Zen calendar page, Friday August 2006. That's the problem with daily calendars; I like most of the quotes so I tear the pages off & stick them inside a book to be discovered years later. Just when I need it.
Here's the quote:
Traveler, there is no path. You make your path as you travel.
~ Antonio Machado