It's 95 degrees and heading right up to 100 today. Annabelle (the rabbit) is hopping around the apartment and chewing on the paper in the recycling basket, and I'm getting ready to spend some quality time with the parable of the weeds and the wheat.
There've been a few rough moments for me and the people around me of late...I feel like I can't quite find my rhythm...but we all seem to be making it through. It's a good thing for air conditioning, or I would be about 70% grumpier.
This photo's from a few days ago riding my bike back from Brooklyn after a storm. Took my breath away.
There's a funky little community garden on the corner near St. Lydia's. Sometimes I go there and sit for a while before things get started up. Sunday it was cold and windy, but I sat there shivering and talking to a friend who I hadn't spoken with in much too long. Thank goodness for community gardens, for homemade, handmade places maintained, but just barely.
Friday through Sunday are a confusion of symbols and images, a muddle of the tomb, the cross, fire, candles, painted eggs, dusk and dawning, blooming and dancing and song. Right now, I'm making quiche for tomorrow's service at Lydia's, staring out the window, and working to pull a sermon out of a very holy mess.
Dear New York,
Thanks for being so friggin incredible all the time.
Here are some pictures of the pure joy you have afforded me today.
ps: those daffodils blooming in Central Park when I went on my run this morning? Made my day.
The map the St. Lydia's planning team for our Palm Sunday and Easter Services made as we planned the services together, and which I find inexplicably wonderful.