Charlotte (CLB)'s LJ (berkeleyfarm) wrote,
Charlotte (CLB)'s LJ
berkeleyfarm

Pink Sunday

It's the Fourth Sunday of Lent, which means that the church breaks through its somewhat somber purple and lightens up ... with pink.

OK, so it's "rose", but our set (I seem to have wandered into the only parish church in the whole diocese with one; I hear the Cathedral has one, but I don't recall their using them. They keep Lent these days in burlap) is really rather pink. Girly-girl pink.

Those of you who know me well are probably laughing at the idea of my finding a church that uses pink OFFICIALLY. Pink is my vice, but here it's a virtue ;).

I must say, that while even pink-loving moi thinks the rose set is just weird-looking (I got to see it on the third Sunday of Advent, which is the only other time that it's used), I certainly took the opportunity to dress appropriately. My fuschia sweater set was admired for its Liturgical Correctness. (I have a set of rose cotton socks too, but I could only find one. So I wore black socks, to match my jeans.)

I was thinking of my grandmother Ruth, who like me, loved pink. The sweater set reminds me of her, as I got it as a present the Christmas she died. I couldn't bring myself to wear it afterwards for a while, but now when I do, I think of her. I think she'd like that.

In other news, I caught up some with a usenet buddy I'd lost touch with; found her blog, including some of her recipes. The mjaddarah with caramelized onions sounds good to me.

I also took advantage of the 70-F and Sunny weather to plant the sweet peas (apropros the subject line, none of them pink) I got at the FM, hoping that it will rain some more (of course, this is powerful Unsympathetic Magick for rain) and that some will survive this year. I was rewarded for my efforts by getting to know the new boy-tiger-tabby-cat who lives next door - he is a Busy Boy, leaping through the grass, as his "roomie" the tabby half-Manx watched - and seeing a hummingbird feeding on my passiflora. Which, of course, Busy Boy got interested in.

Maya was out at the time and did pretty well policing her turf for an old girl. She did get Mr. Boy to back off a bit. Of course, when the cat got near the hummingbird, I intervened. No dead hummers on my watch!
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