April 10, 2022
Read the St Luke Passion at three services. Annihilated most of the rest of the day with a gigantic nap. When I returned from church, Fatboy was on the porch. The stairs must have been a challenge for his tiny legs. I didn’t expect him ever to be that bold. His panic at the sight of me is unnecessary.
Melancholy. One of the surprises of passing time is how little, finally, one has to do with one’s own success. Some, not much. This is a comment on the wide gray plain of disappointment. On the other hand, one has a great deal to do with one’s own actual failure. I look around to see how I have failed, and I don’t honestly detect the catastrophic moments. Nevertheless, I have not succeeded.
Lenten rose, celandine, lunaria in bloom.
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