Sunday, April 20, 2014


Happy Easter, friends, lovers, fans, strangers...

This holiday is, for me, about eggs, chickens, spring and reincarnation (in the form of crocuses and budding peach trees). It is--blessed be--sixty degrees and sunny right now. The lawn is tawny, but greening. Flecks: here and there. There are peas in the ground. I pruned the peach (kind of) and the kids hunted for eggs (with friends) and I told my daughter, first thing, before anyone else was up, that there is no Easter bunny, that I am the Easter bunny, and this sent no ripple of shock through her body. There are miracles I want her to believe in and touches of innocence it will pain me to see her lose, but...What more of a miracle does one need in spring--what more of a reminder of rebirth and reincarnation--than crocuses amidst the brown earth after months of snow?

So there is no longer an Easter bunny here. The eggs came from our chickens. We dyed them with straight-up food coloring and devoured them with glee.

Right now my boy (last night, leaning up against my leg as we stood around a fire: "Mama, love me. Love. Me.") is asleep in the car and my girl is upstairs with a friend making worlds out of blankets and dolls. The world is turning. Alice Munro keeps me company at night, helping me know myself better. What more does one want from a writer?

I have been absent here because of a sore wrist but am stepping back with a new desk, a new keyboard, a new wrist support, and seeing if I can find my rhythm with this new set up. Hello? The line is connecting, kind of.

Happy Sunday, Passover, Easter, Spring, friends. It's all the same in my book: this green time of expansion, growth, opening, light. May yours be filled with all of that, and other good stuff, too.