Wildflowers

Easter Sunday met me in a white lace dress. Out in the ranches in the hills is a tiny church set in the open range. We were given flowers as we walked in, and one woman in particular was blessed, and the priest wrapped her in a blanket. I sang. We went to Tommy's ranch to eat Arkansas Traveler and play golf-fetch. Golf-fetch involves driving a golf ball into the middle of the blue stem wilderness and the dogs retrieving it. I did not dye Easter Eggs this year, but there is time if I hurry to it tomorrow.

I have picked up The Tragic Pursuit of Perfection by Antonina Vallentin, which I suspect is riddled with errors, but it gives me Ciascun grida per godere E muoia chi non vuol cantare and other songs.