little did she know...: half-way there

I rediscovered the goodness that is Norah Jones and her mellow vibes today. Thus, I am drinking my Resurrection night from a wine glass with the smooth tannins (insert scoff of disbelief because you are correct in assuming I know nothing about tannins) that were poured out of a 4 buck chuck bottle o' red wine from the one and only Trader Joe’s, and grooving with Norah and a little Michael Buble on the side to satisfy my hunger for a smidge of romance.

St. Patrick’s feast day was yesterday, and that is my favorite brother’s patron, so I celebrated accordingly.

Aka I wore green, as promised, from head to toe. One of the things I like most about St. Patrick’s day is that it is one of those holidays that guys get into as much as girls. I mean, let’s be honest, if we all the sudden went crazy and ditched Valentine’s day, I would posit that we would hear not one complaint from a male. Not one. But, come St. Patrick’s day, every Irishman from 0-90 years of age bears their green with pride.

I loved going to Saturday morning Mass and seeing more men (mostly elderly) rocking the green. My family is Irish (if the whiteness didn’t give that away already), and I love any excuse to dress up in a holiday uniform.

St. Patrick is so awesome. Kidnapped by Irish brigands when he was 16 years of age, escaping the country eventually, but going back to bring the Gospel to the people of Ireland. That is serious love for Jesus and His fellow creatures right there. He is one of the reasons my family knows Jesus. My ancestors are from Ireland, and he, by the grace of God, brought the Gospel of Jesus and the Catholic Church to the Irish people. So he is one of my patrons as well, and I thank God for him. It is absolutely mind boggling what one little flame can do when set fire by the Love of Jesus. Light an entire country on fire, that’s what.

Sean invited me to a birthday party for one of his friends on a farm. I went because I like hanging with my little bro, and farms are great and a half. I jumped at the opportunity to get the heck out of the city and into some country scenery. And did that drive to the farm deliver? I’ll let you be the judge.

The farm itself was perfect. Like ridiculous how perfect it was.

My camera and I dos-e-doed all over the joint and we also found a little thing I like to call “heaven’s gate”. I think it’s pret-ty obvious why.

There were goats, sheep, chickens, donkeys, and sunshine. Win-win-win-win-win and win.

Not to mention there was green beer, green cake, and a little boy named Marco who decided we were going to be friends and so we were.

And it was a very happy friendship that unfolded in a sunset stroll with yarn spinning in the magical language that only 4 years old speaks and only 4 years old at heart understands.

We were made to be friends, Marco and I. And Bubba and Marco, too.

We sat next to each other to eat dessert. He picked the locale and he picked it right. Little white hangy swing on a wrap around porch at dusk. Cue angels strumming their harps as we sway to the rhythm of love. And key lime pie.

The stars busted out their pre-Resurrection day finest and I let my eyes run amok with joy over the sparkling heavens and heeded not the threat of potential neck ache if I continued to crane my head in such a fashion. The farm was, in a word, enchanting.

Resurrection day was cloudy at first, sunny at the last, and included pancakes with McCabes and the cutest darn niece that ever did call anyone “auntie”.

She tugs at my heartstrings with her two-dimple grin and her giggle that could wipe the frown off of the abominable snowman’s face.

West street was playing me a Spring diddy that my feet could not turn down. So I took my itching-for-sunset-light-on-flowers-photography tootsies for a stroll that could not even try to disappoint. It boasted, none-too-humbly, of green buds peeking out to see what the world has been up to since they last met

the purply flowers that provide the perfect frame for daffodils

molting magnolias making way for their less vibrant but much appreciated green counterparts

dogwoood trees bursting at the seams with cotton blooms that remind you a moment of winter snow, allowing you even more appreciation remembering that when you get up close, they will be flowers and it will still be Spring

Resurrection day is closing off in the way that I love. Living room sitting with my siblings while we alternate between talk of our over the weekend adventures, and doing our own computering things. It ebbs and flows with natural ease, because Jesus is at the center of it all.