Before going to have Easter meal with my family I had a few hours to paint. I went to Lakewood park and watched the sunshine dance across the field. At the end of the field there was a road and a shopping center. It appeared as though the center was closed for Easter Sunday and the pink bricks of the building looked a soft mauve purple against the brilliant sunlight.
The holiday got me thinking about narrative. The building reminded me of the tomb- a restful sleepy sort of closed box waiting to be open for business by the next day. There was an exciting expectant sort of waiting about that spring day. It’s a feeling I always attribute to that holiday.
I grew up in the Episcopal church. One of its traditions is that no one says Hallelujah during the forty days of lent before Easter. On Easter Sunday everyone seems extra happy to say Hallelujah like they were holding their breath not saying it for forty days. The tradition reminds me of spring. The earth is holding its breath in winter for life to begin anew in the springtime.
Easter 2019 was one of those days where the clouds skated across the sky so that one moment the grass would look a dusty green purple and the the next it would be a shining soft yellow green. The leaves on the trees were new so when the sunlight hit them the trees looked as if they were glowing. Cars zoomed by me on my right and the wind picked up as the day grew long. It was a beautiful day.