Note: This blog was begun late in Holy Week and has been added to throughout. The last entry will be on Easter Monday when I will hopefully have time to pull the whole shebang together. Until then, sing a new song, friends.
Earlier in the week:
The wind is blowing, oh, about 50 miles an hour--no joke. It kept me up half the night.
Hippity, hoppity, Easter's on its way................
Perhaps in the south, way in the south, the weather is conducive to and making like Easter. Maybe in Mississippi or Alabama, the grass is way green and the tulips are waving their pretty little heads, showing off their Easter bonnets. Maybe in Mexico.
But here, up on the Mesa near the foothills of the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains, winter must howl its way out of existence. There is no ushering in like a lamb. Out here, it's all lion. While the air has warmed up enough to turn off the heat for one or two days (and to give up baking), every few days there is still a snow or wind storm and we're reminded that we are not in charge here. Snow and Easter lilies; these are my favorite sorts of (and the typical Colorado spring) combinations. So, it's really like this:
Baby, it's cold outside....
There is one hopeful, tiny row of daffodils in an extremely sunny spot down the street. Huh.
And once more, the seasons of Lent and Advent mix and murk-up life. I once had a friend who said, "It isn't Christmas unless you find a piece of Easter grass under the sofa when you're cleaning." As I dig through the junk drawer, looking for a little Easter bauble for the table, I come across Christmas ornaments that didn't make it into the box in the attic. Or I see a snowman I missed at the top of a bookshelf. Just when I think I am ready to believe grace is mine, it seems I'm thinking about waiting for the messiah to be born in my heart. Ah, gee.
No only that, but in my faith, huge, magnificent, screaming winds are not for Easter. The are for Pentecost, the birth of the church. I dunno.
And, by golly, I blogged unleavened bread last week. Ok, I'm confused for sure. But, if you're celebrating Passover, check out our Chinese meal and fix the green onion pancakes, which are not really pancakes, but tasty chewy flatbreads cooked on top of the stove in a skillet. Rolling the eyes and taking a big breath here.
Meantime, I'm believing Easter will come. The winds will die down. I'll make it through Maudy Thursday and Good Friday services. I'll cook through the Saturday vigil. And, like the rest of the world, I'll wait to be saved. Or free. Or sinless. Guiltless. Clean. Loved. New slate. Ready, set, go.
This year, our brunch is capital "S" Simple. Friends are coming and bringing part of the meal. I won't be putting the whole thing together until Sunday after church, but will do a trial run of a quiche for grins, giggles and fotos. I'll gear up the table (which will be filled with grass, eggs, chocolate, etc.) a bit and get it all together for you, but will try to get more complete photos as I work on the meal over the weekend. Perhaps I'll be better with the camera than I was on a regular writing/photography gig today. When I arrived at Patsy's Candies to take pictures for an article, my battery was dead in the camera. This from a woman who spent the $50 to have a BACKUP BATTERY and left it at home.
You see how it is this week. This blog will be a work-in-progress. Like all of us at Easter.
Ok-The bread- Columba de Pasqua- is first. I couldn't get it to work in the shape of a dove, the traditional shape. Instead, I have a braid. I guess we'll eat it. Made on Thursday afternoon-evening, I'll freeze it and unthaw it Sun.