Easter is a funny holiday in our family. We’re all of us atheists or Buddhists, but on my husband’s side there are lingering vestiges of Catholicism so we often go up to Northern California to visit and dye eggs and pretend that a bunny brings chocolate in the night.
For me, it’s always an opportunity to visit the redwood grove at Henry Cowell State Park where a collection of old growth tress climb so high that you give yourself a neck ache craning to look up at the tops of them.
These trees have been here since before Jesus walked the earth, and with any luck they’ll be here long after humans have forgotten his name. We are so tiny, so ephemeral. A walk in the redwoods is my version of church, my way of reconnecting with life, remembering to be kind, cherishing the world around me as it is.
Happy Easter everyone.