My dogwood is blooming, but not very impressively. The blooms are small and brownish, and there seems to be a lot of dead wood. Some bits look as though they might just leaf out, not bloom. It's an old tree, and I wonder how much more life it's got left. My other dogwood, in the back yard, is similarly just barely there. I don't think I'll be able to make myself cut them down, at least not till they're definitely dead. But I do keep thinking of what I might plant there instead . . .
It's raining again, and coldish, on this day when, in the gospel narratives, Judas bargains for thirty pieces of silver. As always, I have a number of tasks to push myself to do. I'm waiting for a pair of books to arrive in the mail, that I've agreed to review together. Meanwhile, I'm rereading In This House of Brede for Holy Week and pecking away, as I do, at various writing projects, hoping something will gain enough momentum to sustain itself over some kind of long haul.
Wearing:
*Wool& Willow dress (M) in Wisteria, bought February 2023
*Secondhand Allbirds tencel-merino leggings, bought January 2024
*Darn Tough Socks, bought sometime last fall
*Secondhand Xero Oswego shoes in Charcoal, bought January (or February?) 2024
I try to put in, pretty regularly, details to indicate how long I've owned a particular piece (if I remember --- in the case of the thrifted purple cardigan I've been wearing all through Lent, I have no idea when I bought it, though I remember that it cost 25 cents). Those details remind me of the importance of keeping, mending, maintaining, and continuing to wear an item on a rotating, if not absolutely frequent, basis, until it wears out beyond the possibility of mending. I like having a record of having done so, at any rate. I've kind of given up on my spreadsheet, because I just don't have time for that, but this blog keeps that record just as handily, as does my album of daily outfit pictures.
I've had this dress for over a year --- not that long, but it's certainly no longer brand new, which presents its own challenges to the dopmanine-craving brain. I have worn this dress a lot over the year and change that I've had it. I was surprised, actually, at the end of last year, to realize that this dress ranked among my most-worn dresses, even if it wasn't the proportionally most frequently worn item I owned. The color makes it a piece I reach for a lot, all year round --- a little dopamine hit in itself, really. I just love this tender periwinkle (which has obviously had many outings in both Advent and Lent, as well as being a cool, airy summer color). Here I like it with these soft spring-green leggings, to make an outfit that's simple, fluid, warm, as comfortable as pajamas, but a little more put-together than pajamas.
It's chilly enough in the house this morning that I added my alpaca cardigan (bought September 2022 --- I particularly remember 2022 purchases, since I was allegedly having a no-buy year) for an extra layer:
The dog is still tucked up in her bed --- it's dark at the end of the hall, she has the heating vent blowing on her to keep her nice and warm, and so far she hasn't stirred or made any noise about wanting out. The rain is still coming down out there, so I'm not dying for a walk at this moment, though eventually I'll have to take one. I thought these Oswegos would be a good choice for a wet day, a good walking-shoe alternative to boots on a day when I really could still wear boots, but am thoroughly sick of them. I'm already mentally packing for our next trip to Norway (sometime in June), and these shoes will definitely go with me as hiking footwear. I'm not taking my heavy, bulky leather boots again. I keep thinking I might find some Xero hiking/trail-running shoes, but honestly, the only difference is in the upper. These have adequate tread, and I can wear them all day in comfort, on and off the trail. They clean up easily, too, and dry pretty fast when they get wet. Not taking my heavy boots will gain me a lot of space in my carry-on pack --- it'll be easier to fit my Gore-Tex coat in, for one thing.
The good thing is that I already own the clothes I'd want to take on such a trip. I might take different dresses from the ones I took last year, but I don't need to buy a new one. I have my handy versatile pullover sweater, a selection of cardigans, and go-to leggings if I need them. I have my all-purpose, all-weather jacket. We got so lucky with the weather last year --- it was warm and sunny almost the entire time we were there --- but it could so easily be chillier and wetter than it was, and I'm ready for that.
But all that is some distance in the future. Right now it's Holy Week. I need to prep for our Holy Thursday dinner tomorrow: just the two of us, but we still do a Passover-ish meal (not an actual attempt at replicating a Seder, but a meal that points in that direction, with a reading of the appropriate passage from Exodus, and a feeling of girding our loins for the rigors of the Triduum). I need to think about what our one Good Friday meal will be (bean soup, I imagine). And I need to give some thought to Easter dinner, beyond the leg of lamb.
Spy Wednesday in many ways has the same anticipatory feeling of Holy Saturday: you know something is about to happen, but it isn't happening yet. You just have to mark the time until it does happen --- which is what hindsight, knowing the story already, does for you, and to you. You can't really relive those mysteries as the people directly involved in them lived them, because they didn't know what was going to happen. You do know, and that changes things in various subtle ways. They didn't think, "Here we go again." That's exactly what I do think every year, at every turn of the calendar's wheel. Sometimes it feels a bit like being caught between grindstones. But then maybe that's the point: that the time itself is wearing away (if you let it) what's temporal and fallen about you, to prepare you for the day when it's all simply, and always, now, with none of the dread and dreariness of waiting around.
Today, well, rain and chill, bless the Lord.