in the days before easter dawned we prepared plaited challah, hot cross buns (over 50!) and a good deal of homey bread…
we boiled and painted eggs…
we gathered blossoms and spring flowers; and by saturday evening the monastery was decked yellow and white, smelling of easter goodies, and expectantly awaiting the dawn
the primal flame of the easter bonfire burned well and wild in the late spring wind at dawn; may it burn on within, a flame divided but undimmed
may it burn to dispel darkness, may it restore lost innocence, may it cast out hatred; may it burn on all year; the breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you – don’t go back to sleep
