Easter Sunday, and for much of the morning it snowed. The clouds are low and dark, more like November than Easter. I don't even remember Easters in Duluth being this grim.
However, I've made some nice food, I can smell the pot roast cooking, and I've spent a pleasant few minutes looking at the "White Flower Farm" summer catalog. The colors! Whee! and listening to "The Messiah." I'm re-enacting the Easters and countless Sundays of my childhood, with Mom cooking, everyone else reading (OK, so in my instance I'm reading and the kids are playing video games and watching "Red vs. Blue) while classical music plays. And since it's Easter, that means "The Messiah."
No extended family today, but I'm finding community in the imagined company of all the women doing "deep cooking" today; in those listening to "The Messiah," and gardeners eager for spring.
This reverie must now end; I have to finish my taxes so we can get Evan's financial aid application finalized, and then fill out a job application.
What I'm Reading Now:
Patrick Leigh Fermor's "A Time for Silence," "describing his several sojourns at some of Europe's oldest and most venerable monasteries." First printed in 1957, it seemed a natural for this Easter Sunday.
Just finished "Origin" by Diana Abu-Jaber, a mystery/novel most atmospheric, with a self-isolating fingerprint technologist, Lena Dawson, working on a mystery that seems connected to her own mysterious childhood. The plot could easily degenerate to hackneyed crap, but Abu-Jaber doesn't let us down.
The atmosphere reminds me of "The Thirteenth Tale" or "Ghost Writer."
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