That smooth and silky hot-fired rivulet in your mouth that brandy gives you. With the olfactory spread afterwards. Mmmm. Nice. Makes me wanna enjoy one of the birthday stogies my old friend T sent me.
Remembering Easters from my childhood. Easter baskets full of candy, baby chicks, new hats on Mom, dyeing eggs, the smell of lilies in church, leg of lamb for dinner and the coming of Spring after a robust winter on the East Coast.
Mr B's inquiries made me track down the details of why the Western and Eastern Churches celebrate Easter on different Sundays, since they both follow the rules of the 325 Council of Nicea, that it fall on the first Sunday following the first full moon on or after the vernal equinox. Short answer: they both consider March 21 as the date of the equinox but March 21 falls on different days in the Gregorian and the Julian calendars.
I remember the Easter in Rome when I went to the Russicum for the Paschal Vigil and then walked the few miles home to Via Latina in the middle of the night and heard, for the first and only time, a nightingale singing in the dark woods behind the house.
And this Easter card from my late Dominican mentor CH, with his laughingly unromantic view of life:
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