life imitates art, two smart sassy redheads and four charming handsome boys (two of whom have four paws, admittedly). mornings off – be they good friday or just a nice weekend – sometimes just mean classic movies in our robes in bed. i think philadelphia story is the perfect vehicle for james stewart, and had i been tracy lord, i can’t imagine picking dexter over him. any man who will carry you elegantly up through a nighttime garden singing ‘somewhere over the rainbow’ is, drunk or no, in my estimation, worth keeping.
good friday is rainy and damp here, but no schedule and no timekeeping and no chores except from the assembly of the traditional nine-egg lemon tart for easter. no one is ever excited about the lemon easter tart except me, but it i remember eating it in australia, in a tiny one-room farmhouse, and thinking how fresh and wonderful and perfect it was. it stays with me, those simple happy memories, and sometimes a ritual can just belong to one person. lemons are spring to me. lemons are the taste of new life and rising suns and risen sons and lime tinge in the trees.
blessed, and thankful for it.