hold fast to what matters

The rings were all converging this past weekend, were they not? Those who follow the Abrahamic religions were observing and/or celebrating Easter, Passover and Ramadan— plus it was a full moon, the pink moon, as it happens… or the "pink, lavender, pale blue, and other pastel springtime holiday” moon AKA "Reese’s peanut butter eggs for breakfast” moon…

The world, no less tenuous, no more peaceful, did seem a little cheerier as widely available Covid tests meant many people got together to celebrate.

We did.

And we absolutely forgot how to function at a Sunday dinner in the (gasp) DINING ROOM.

Boxes, storage bins, and unoccupied cobwebs were safely cleared to reveal a vault of a room. In the center, a flat surface surrounded by chairs clearly intended for convening and comestibles. We entered this unremembered temple to sharing a meal as cautiously and with the breathless exultation of Howard Carter and his Egyptian team headed into Tutankhamen’s tomb for the first time, but with (all toes and fingers crossed) fewer viral results.

Could not find the linen napkins, couldn’t be bothered with the china— but with a bit of last minute clipping from outside and a recycled Easter basket, there WAS a centerpiece. Needn’t be much. You can do it, too. The important thing was to have those laughs and love those faces that could make it.

Plus also, sent some cards, some chicks, some chocolate, and bunny beans to those who we gathered close in our hearts if not our arms.

Recycled wool chicks, carefully created blown out Araucana eggs— and the beautiful work of Ukrainian artists.

Centerpiece of repurposed ribbon, sprigs of viburnum, and real eggs in the (gasp) DINING ROOM, surrounded by viburnum branches in a bourbon bottle and sheep headed for the yarn shop.

Eggs have always represented new potential, new beginnings. We wish you better days, safety, and the surety of peace and plenty.