Holy Saturday

It's Holy Saturday morning, that in between time. In between the dark solemnity of Good Friday and the joyous abundance of Easter. Every year I think about the disciples and how they must have felt on this day. They did not know Easter was coming. They did not know Jesus would come back to them. Perhaps they should have - he told them after all, but how could they understand? Bereft is the word that comes to mind. I feel a little bereft too this morning, though with the expectation of something.

It is sunny this morning with a promise of snow later in the day. It was supposed to go to 19 last night. The daffodils and forsythia are trying to resist the cold and bravely bloom, but I don't know how much more of the sub-freezing temps they can take. We're only climbing just above freezing during the day. It is certain that I will not fall in love with the climate here, and when I am done with my three years, I will gladly return to my beloved southland. The Indigo Girls sing, "There's somethin' 'bout the Southland in the springtime." I have to agree with them.

I love the windows in my apartment. They allow me to look out on the trees and sky. I spend long periods of time just staring out, communing with the world out there. I have been very quiet this weekend, sitting and reading and even sleeping quite a bit. I guess I needed the rest.