[I gave the devil Easter week off. Easter’s always a bit tough on Ol’ Scratch. Too much hopefulness and happiness, don’t you know. So this is a re-run from last year (April 19, 2020). Many of you subscribed to The Devil’s Gift after that, so for you this post will be fresh. For the old gang…well, they’re old and probably don’t remember ever seeing this before. Whatever your status I hope you enjoy this little Easter reverie. Ol’ Scratch will be back with a fresh gift next Sunday. Until then, Happy Eastertide.]
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I saw Jesus napping in a hammock in my backyard. A transistor radio lay on his chest. A baseball game was on. Orioles and Yankees.
First inning.
I stepped softly past the hammock, slipped around the pond (frogs croaked), and into a field of flowers.
Butterflies fluttered.
I picked three fistfuls of bluebells and put them in a jar. I walked to my neighbor’s house. The shades were pulled.
(Her son was buried yesterday. No one came.)
I set the jar on the porch.
(A blackbird limped across the porch, gasping with each halting step. One wing was broken. It stood still, trembling, uncertain. I kneeled on the step, watching, a vigil to keep. The sun was slowly sinking down. The silent bird shuddered, fluffed its feathers, rose on its toes, lifted both wings, and flew away.)
I walked back to my yard.
The hammock was empty.
The radio was on.
Last inning.
The Orioles won.
* * *
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See Paula’s photo “Lenten Rose” on the home page. Posted March 21
I did not see this one last year as a new subscriber. Wow. This was an inspired moment. Thank you
Such rich & vivid images… I see, feel & hear them all. Listening to a baseball game, the hammock, Jesus napping (surely he needs that nap), bluebells in a jar for a grieving neighbour- mother’s sorrow. Today is the birthday of my friend’s son, who passed in 2002… he would be 27 today… I think I’ll bring her bluebells. Thank you for this gift, or regift… just the perfect thing🙏💓
It was 15 years ago this month when our son Kevin died. Lucy and I were at one of my favorite places in the world, Warm Springs, VA, beautiful mountains and one of the greatest trout streams in Virginia, the Jackson River. I’m going back again this year but it will always now be a bittersweet time since I will forever associate Warm Springs with Kevin and his death. But hope always seems to Spring. We cannot have darkness without light. Love hurts, but we cannot fully live without it.
Thank you. I did read this last year and how good it is to have it again. Such lovely images, earthy, neighborly, loving and friendly. I’m glad the blackbird flew away.