Wednesday, March 31, 2010


I know others who look to the crocus or daffodils, but not me.

I never been accused of being terribly attentive, yet I notice it. But there is this--it seems to me that one day it isn't there and the next day it is.

I saw it today in the Close and on the way home and in Cheshire--which might be the New England capitol of it. Banks of it, fields of it, walls of it--exploding and wondrous.


Suddenly it spilled out, when I wasn't paying attention--waves of it, oceans of it....

It is when the Forsythia comes that I begin to believe there might be a spring this year after all. When the Forsythia appears I know for certain that Life itself is overcoming the darkness and the death.

It is back....Alleluia....

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About Me

some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.