Roads to Joy

The daffodils at the top of our new-to-us garden nod towards the dawn of Easter Sunday. We seem to have been imbued with a surplus of joyful moments, this weekend, with more to come.

Yesterday I finally sat down and did my hour’s stint on this month’s VisualVerse.org prompt. It had taken rather longer in rumination, this one, but when completed my effort elicited commendation from my beloved. And then we presented our combined efforts on the house-to-home front for our visiting daughter, with some shared delight.

Later that evening, after a wonderful meal of comfort-food fish pie, we arrived in plenty of time at the Dalry parish Church of Scotland to experience our neighbour’s presentation for the first time of his Passion, a musical setting of William Lorimer’s Scottish translation of the Bible. It was an intensely moving experience, combining the choir, soloists and readers as the Easter story was told.

As stories go, that one is one of the most powerful, no matter what or whether your faith. To sing together, congregation in a full church, the words by which we accompanied the crucifixion and death of Jesus: ‘Be near me Lord when dying’ was an experience I shall not likely forget. After all, this past year has seen a lot of death from within family and friendship circles. But the resurrection promise works however you choose to interpret it.

I prefer the sensibility of metaphor, myself, and the delight in the daffodils turned to the east to catch the full rays of the morning sun seems to capture that sentiment. Later this morning, after one or another holy stints, we might indulge in a glass of white at the CatStrand Arts Centre, before setting up the Sunday roast and then ambling through the neighbouring wood. At some point, late afternoon perhaps, I hope to sit quietly in the garden’s corner nook and inhale the atmosphere.

The task is to recreate a ‘sense of place’ by incorporating the sensual experience there. Since this garden is only now becoming ‘ours’ the effort will almost certainly repay itself with continued thought and considerations. By reflecting on these things, it seems the experience is exalted, so much more than if the various components of an interlude go unacknowledged. I might just jot down a few thoughts to share with the lovely ageing owner of this place, who left it in our care. A bit of thanks would surely not go amiss.

However joy is experienced, I hope that it arrives with everyone I know and love, on this bright Sunday morning.