This morning arrived with grey skies and weather cool enough to inspire open windows, loud music, and dancing. (The kind like no one is watching except the cats.)
A morning alone. Enjoyed with gracious harmonic contribution. I think CCR is my soul band.
It’s also Easter.
With my solo dancing quieted by the encroaching Florida sunshine, I’ve come here for reflection about this celebratory day.
I remember the way, way, way old days when I wore a dress once a year and looked for eggs with my sister. That was in North Carolina. In the Piedmont. At my great aunt’s house. She owns Easter in my mind. Her garden full of Hydrangeas and rainbows of other flowers symbolized our quest for empty plastic trophies. We didn’t put anything in them. No candy or money. But the treasured smiles during those hunts remain as chromatic adoration.
I don’t think that searching for eggs in this part of Florida would be as fun. I really enjoy the weathered palms and soul-searching clarity of the natural springs, but there are some seriously tough characters here. Alligators, snakes, and grouchy deer flies. Not that coastal NC wasn’t home to its share of moccasins, but I’ve just gotten older and sticking my hands into grassy unknowns is over.
I find myself content to observe. Imagine. Reflect. Respect the right for these creatures to remain undisturbed by sticky-fingered kids disturbing their Easters.
Except for the deer flies. They are assholes.
(pic: my Florida path)
((pss. now i’m dancing to Spirit in the Sky. ))