Good Friday, Pezilla de Conflent

Spring comes to our village, Pezilla de Conflent. The churchyard gets tidied up of its old crucifixes, clearing the way for more deaths and burials. Meanwhile I do my own best to shuck off the old and prepare for the new.

The spirit of deadlines is what I am set on being rid of, the way that each creative act can also become an onerous task, must get this one finished and out there and on with the next. It’s been a necessary part of the freelance life, but I can let go of it now.

The old cherry tree that was hacked down to its stumps has sprouted new branches and blossomed. Poppies have found themselves a fresh patch of field to colonize. Insects are pulled in to the fresh showing of flowers in the strip of garden by the front of the house, and lizards gather on the house’s old stone to spring them a welcome. All is coming right with the world.