April 10, 2009

Good Friday. The noon service was beautiful, though compromised a little by a mistake in the chant. We sounded like a wounded serpent trying to right itself. Time fully wasted, actually, no achievement, no contemplation of the dark history of the day. Sometimes the spirit is so dry it doesn’t even ask for rain. The plants have asked, though, and down comes the physical rain from the very physical storm of the sky. Scarlet and white tulips, so beautiful now on forgets they came as free fillers in the box while one was ordering other things.