We have thousands of human-written stories, discussions, interviews and reviews from today through the past 20+ years. Find them here:

Search the site Search

March 26, 2005 at 9:15 AM

It's that time of year--spring breakup. The winter routine has become old, and summer is too far away to be entertaining thoughts of salmon fishing and backpacking. George and I killed time at the coffee shop tying flies and knitting. We killed some time around the house. Then we killed some more time mulling around the local hot spot, the grocery store, surrounded by pastel eggs and bunnies. I was putting off practicing as long as I could, and I told George I couldn't stand the thought of playing anything but Bach, which made me feel guilty about practice. He shrugged and said he didn't see how playing some Bach could hurt. He was off to a friend's to watch movies, and I was alone on my back porch, thinking about Bach. It was dark, a moonless night from overcast skies, and the light from inside the house made a warm glow on the snow. I listened to the steady melting and the creaking of the trees, with the distant hum of the highway reminding me of my ties to the rest of civilization.

It's Good Friday.

It bothered me all day that today was Good Friday, and people took off work and bought little chocolate rabbits and plastic grass to celebrate the upcoming holiday. My culture seems a little removed from the true purpose of Easter. No, actually the concept is now quite offensive, and Americans have done a fine job of creating their own agenda for the holiday, hiding the gravity of the cross somewhere along with the eggs. I confess, I myself avoid thinking too deeply of crucifiction; it's such an emotionally heavy burden, and who wants to feel heavy these days?

Back in the studio, I ran into the d minor chaconne, and there I stayed, savoring each chord and letting the feeling sink into my soul. If anything could ever perfectly musically describe death and transfiguration, this was it. Such beauty, such torment, what passion and hope! I wonder if people were to embrace such a concept, would they not feel a little less like a hollow egg?

I'm looking forward to the first signs of spring, the new green pushing out of the earth and the return of the loons to the lake. It's still a bit early to start looking--the ice isn't close to going out--but I caught a whiff of spring this evening, and I'm hopeful.

tying flies and knitting at the coffee shop while the ice breaks and the salmon do something sounds so charmingly Northern Exposure-ish. Loons at the lake is familiar though.
You have loons in Kentucky? I still remember the first time I heard them when I moved here six years ago. They made sounds even the movies don't ever capture. To me, the sound of the loon is the Kenai peninsula's harbinger of the season. That, and the winnowing of the snipe.
The middle of summer is loon season at the lake here. Can you hunt snipe there?
I know what you mean about the commercialization of Easter. Whenever I hear someone singing HERE COMES PETER COTTONTAIL, I realize how silly it is to talk about a fake bunny rather than a risen Lord! But, we must never forget the Cross, and of course the empty tomb!
Jim, yes you can, and no jokes about snipe hunting! ;)
Here's my unwritten rule: