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| RER 3.27.16 |
Timing is
everything. Or nothing.
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| RER 3.27.16 |
Easter came early this year— almost like an afterthought before
the actual thought. It crept up on us, shocking like the mystery that it
celebrates. Acting much like the weather: temperamental, moody, unpredictable,
and early. It’s been an up and down of temperature—unseasonably warm one day
and typically cold the next. Lions and lambs fighting and ending in an oddly
unbalanced stalemate. Hot and cold like the most passionate affair or
weary teacher. But Easter
came and went, as did March—quickly, quietly, and early (by early, I mean, time is moving forward
faster than I could have imagined or even hoped in darker times). And now it’s
gone.
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| RER 3.27.16 |
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| RER 3.27.16 |
 |
| RER 3.27.16 |
 |
| RER 3.27.16 |
Easter
ushers a breath of fresh air after stale Lent, dark with deprivation and
reflection, and quarter three, full and dense with symbolism and five-paragraph
essays. The death and darkness of Lent and winter months culminate in
Resurrection and the rebirth of spring. Easter is a moment of new beginnings
and celebratory feasts.
And
feast we did.
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| RER 3.27.16 |
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| RER 3.27.16 |
 |
| RER 3.27.16 |
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| RER 3.27.16 |
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| RER 3.27.16 |
 |
| JAR 3.27.16 |
Timing is
everything.
RER
3.27.16
 |
| RER 3.27.16 |
