while it wa yet dark

At early dawn, while it was yet dark ...

We are a religion of stories. Of stories and songs, I like to say. This morning is our most spectacular story, and it's fun to speculate, to put oneself there as in the old radio show "You Are There," and imagine. 

Just now, first before sitting down with my magic mug of hot & black, I was outside on 7H porch to take in the moment and snap a couple of photographs. One of Linda's red flowers that we've been anticipating for weeks, the other of the Moon in the clouds high over St Andrews Bay. The air is damp, there's a cool breeze - a bit too cool and breezy for sitting out comfortably. The balcony rail is wet with more than morning dew, so we've had rain. 

Outside I Am There and contemplating. Early in the morning, while it was yet dark, the women came to the sepulcher - - was it cool like this? Was there a pleasant breeze? Was the moon in the sky to help them see their way? Was the moon in and out of clouds? To all this I'm saying yes.

Were there voices? Who else was around? Walking slowly, not rushed, the women are talking among themselves, more thoughts and memories than conversation. The two Marys are weeping quietly, Mary the Mother of Jesus, and Mary Magdalene, Jesus' love since that day he first saw her at the wedding down in Magdala. Instantly smitten, he was fourteen, she was twelve. They've been inseparable ...

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My coffee stays hot, the Ember mug keeps it perfect sipping temperature, and my club coffee for April is a bit darker roast than last month's. Behind me, the lamp on the wrought iron server cart is lighting this corner of the living room. In the dining room, the soft, dim bulb in the Chinese red lamp behind the Japanese screen is also burning. I'm in my chair beside the window. It's still dark outside as Easter morning is dawning. Among the Happy Easter news, the F15 pilot who was missing in Iran has been found and rescued safely. Remembering how it was being in a war zone fifty-six years ago, I am relieved unto my own tears.

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Experimenting, learning, each dish a wonder, I sous vide cooked two small lamb roasts, one 134°F for five hours, the other 131°F for six hours, from yesterday morning until ten o'clock last night. They've been in their sealed bags refrigerated overnight. Just before leaving for church, we'll take them out and set them on the kitchen counter to come to room temperature. Our noon plan is to visit Malinda at Pruitt, then the three of us come back here for Easter dinner. I'll sear the meat and Linda will finish the gravy, onions, and rice. When we have roast leg of lamb I like lots of rice and gravy to go with, a memory from having roast lamb with rice and thin, black, salty gravy at Linda's house when we were teenagers. Now ninety, my heart and my life are full. Right shoe first and praise the Lord.

Xpistos anesti and Amen.

T90