I never knew that the buttercup was the first to bloom around here. With everything still sitting brown and grey, these sweet flowers of childhood seem to bring a cheery disposition upon the dreariest of landscapes.  

This past week is referred to as Holy Week, even when the days within often feel anything but holy: 

I made a social distancing faux pas, and never got around to making a meal plan. I'm still figuring out how to manage four distance learning children, and found that it was possible to exceed my mental load with exposure to too many online opinion pieces. You too?

 

But sort of like those buttercups, there's been a transforming of a landscape. If one looks close enough, redemption is always near. It's never contingent on having everything together, but rather on the laying down.