“Lemon, YESSSsss!!” I said aloud to myself just now. Yes, I’m alone in my dear little house and I’m talking to myself. Reading through a recipe for “lemony asparagus soup,” I was lamenting the fact that my produce bin (actually a drywall mud tray from Home Depot) holds only limes. But then I remember the three Meyer lemons that sit waiting in my grocery bag, destined for some spring-y dish. I just knew I’d need them. And this gives me much delight, the fact that I know the seasons and their flavors, that I know my cupboard, and that I know myself.
It’s been a thoroughly enjoyable Saturday-before-Easter. I’ve potted herbs and re-potted formerly suffering succulents. I’ve swept the floors until the varnish threatens to come up with the bristles. I’ve folded laundry. I’ve put things prettily on display in the living room, livened up my vignettes with fresh blooms and a spit shine. I’ve pre-heated the oven for the meringue building block of our family’s favorite and ideal Easter dessert, Pavlova. Asparagus soup will soon commence. Evening’s dark has just now fallen, the ice in my bourbon and soda is clinking and cracking next to me, and Simon and Garfunkel croon in their tremolo harmonies, “April, come she will…” quite by chance, from the next room.
This is my Father’s world O let me ne’er forget That though the wrong seems oft so strong God is the ruler yet
I cling to this truth.
My friend Rebekah and I drove down Highway 100 afterwards, on our way to our own Communion, a glass of wine and a plate of crusty bread. We were mid-conversation when she gasped and said “Evie, look at the moon!!” There it sat, glowing as brightly as a flood light and brighter, with the dark silhouettes of trees pulsing beneath its illuminating power. I slowed, to the chagrin of several drivers around me, to 30 miles per hour. We couldn’t stop gawking. I remarked after a moment, “Isn’t it so nice to see something beautiful and to have someone beside you to enjoy it with?!” We giggled in our perpetual single-ness, but in our hearts were so deeply gladdened to be enjoying God’s good creation with one another.
(This post is totally writing itself, by the way, stream of consciousness is my preferred method tonight…come to think of it, that might be all I’ve got….)
So I’ll close. God speaks to his children in countless ways, but He reaches me through beauty; He gives me the gifts of color and texture and taste and shared tenderness with those whom I love. He is real to me in these ways and so many others. I mark the rising of his Son tomorrow morning. I will celebrate it standing, drowning in gratitude.
[Featured image: “Easter Moon Over Pond in New England” by Tracy Lee Carroll. All other images by Evie Coates.]