Easter tends to pass me by. Or rather, I see it at the very last minute and grab onto its yellow ribbons just in time to make sure I’m never completely left behind. I think it’s the fact that the date moves. That, and the whole not-being-a-Christian thing.
But I love the feeling of this time of year. I love how, here in Northumberland, it’s impossible to get out of the door without trampling on daffodils or tripping over a lamb. Here’s Warkworth Castle, just to give you a sense of the daffiness of it all.
Newness is everywhere. Skin is warm again. We slough off the last of winter and smile. (Apologies to the southern hemisphere for the northern-hemisphere bias of this post.) Talking to the man with the train refreshment trolley a couple of weeks ago, he told me how much nicer and more understanding people are once the sun has started to shine.
So, even though I’m not very Easter-ish – the family will gather here for a late lunch, and that’s about it in terms of celebration, although it will be lovely – I love this time of year. I love the possibility, and the sense of life, and the way we stretch and hope for light and summer and blossoming.
But, after Philip Larking was so well received at Bah! the other week – I bless the person with the presence of mind to record him reading his own work – I’m going to let him say it much better than I can.
Happy, happy Easter. Let’s look forward, and upward, and expect the sunshine to bathe us and warm us to the heart.