Take the Pascal Moon away from the first moon you thought of…

            Depending on where you live, you might not agree, but here in Manchester, the weather’s been great.  (That’s a sentence you don’t often hear!)   I’m only hoping it lasts until Easter Sunday so we can get out in the garden!

            Easter is, of course, the season of new life.  The name is the last remnant of the worship of the Anglo-Saxon goddess of the Spring, Estre or Oestre.  Easter Bunnies are the scaled down version of the Celtic sacred hares.  Exactly why Easter bunnies should bring eggs, I’m not sure, but I think it’s very obliging of them.

Talking of bunnies, Jessica, the eldest, got a baby rabbit.  He's called Buttons and is soooo cute.  I don't know if he'll produce an egg, but it seems unlikely

Every so often someone has a grumble about the way Easter moves about.  In church terms, this is a Movable Feast. (Yep, I know it sounds like a picnic) celebrated on the first Sunday following the first full moon after the spring equinox.

However – pay attention at the back there -  the spring equinox is fixed for this purpose as March 21 and the "full moon" is actually the paschal moon, which is based on 84-year "paschal cycles" established in the sixth century, would you believe. It rarely corresponds to the astronomical or actual full moon.  Just to make life even more interesting, the Eastern churches, such as the Greek and Russian orthodox, count it up the same way, but use the Julian calendar (on which March 21 is April 3) and a 19-year paschal cycle.

            I think I’ll just check the calendar same as usual and celebrate at the same time as everyone else.

The new life bit is absolutely unmissable though. The garden’s gone mental.  Only a few weeks ago, there were bare patches on the so-called lawn and now it looks (from a distance) green.  All over. Mostly.

  Mind you, I did help it along. To the intense amusement of my Other Half, I bough a pair of rigid plastic sandals with huge spikes sticking out the bottom and walked around the grass, aerating the lawn.  Apparently grass-roots like a bit of fresh air, which makes you wonder why it grows underground.

  I mean, if  the roots likes air that much, why not stick them above ground to take a breather now and again, rather than waiting for someone with huge spikes sticking out of the soles of their feet to come and give it a dose of the much needed?  It seems like a rum state of affairs to me and one that might have given Darwin a bit of pause for thought.  It’s hardly survival of the fittest, is it?  Although, by the time two dogs and various humans have romped over it, it’s more a case of the survival of the flattest.

            Happy Easter everyone!  I hope you get lots of eggs.