Monday, March 24, 2008
One of my favorite times of the day is the early morning. I take my coffee out on the deck and enjoy the morning light, the sound of the birds singing their Hosanna's to the Lord of Life, while the squirrels squabble over the scraps of bread I left out for them the night before.
The backyard deck is especially lovely in the Spring and Summer, but I also enjoy it in the crisp Autumn and for a few moments the way the air seems to warm just before or after a Winter's snow.
I was out there this morning, playing with my new Iphone which the Easter Bunny brought instead of a basket of chocolates. I've been having a grand time learning all the new things I can do with it - from reading the NY Times, to catching up on my e-mail, to reading blogs. It's pretty amazing, actually.
As my friend, Ann, another convert to Mac over PC, wrote to me yesterday, "It sure beats knitting."
I can also take pictures. This is the tree right off my deck, which has just begun to bloom. It will be glorious in a week or so, but right now it stands as a wonderful image for the first Monday in Eastertide.
The air is still crisp, threatening the vulnerability of new life, but the buds will not be denied. They have smelled the promise of hope and have become as bold and courageous as martyrs to the cause of change. The scent of it hangs in the air like the fragrance of an intoxicatingly beautiful perfume.
It's a glorious morning, one which calls for a long walk at the Loantaka Reservation up the road in Morristown later on this day. But first, there are errands to run, a bit of housekeeping to which to tend after the wonderful family celebration yesterday, some laundry to begin - all the mundane, common things of life.
Still, the buds whisper to me, "Come away! Come away! Let us glory together in the hope of new life."
It is a singularly irresistible vocation.
I run to it like the women at the empty tomb who led the disciples to Jesus, waiting for them in Galilee.
The whole earth opens itself in Spring to proclaim the Gospel, if we but listen.