Woke late to the blue shadows, lit a candle in crystal and stretched my soul muscles to this hymn.
Walked down vine-framed streets to watch a pale, golden light rise on the far-off hills.
Drank coffee, lots of it (specially flavored with salt and cinnamon), and nibbled at strawberries and banana bread.
Read this luminescent passage from Elizabeth Goudge quoting John Donne: And so, good people, ‘we will speak of that which is older than our beginning and shall overlive our end, the mercy of God. Nay, to say that mercy was first is but to post-date mercy; to prefer mercy but so is to diminish mercy. The names of first or last derogate from it, for first and last are but rags of time, and His mercy hath no relation to time, no limitation in time. It is not first or last but everlasting.’
Took this picture using my computer. (It was the best I could manage for now.)
Managed to finish three mini-essays.
Laughed with my mom (about too many things to number).
Draped my shoulders with my cream-colored scarf (the little writing porch is rather chill) and felt appropriately old-fashioned in this creaky, adorable house.
Wished all of you a springtime sort of day.