Easter and April go together especially on a sunny day. The story of Jesus’ death and resurrection is such a wonderful story and fits well where I walk amongst olive and almond trees. I enjoy the part when they found the grotto bare, only his shroud is there it ought to have blood stained his body had not yet been cleaned and perfumed. James, Jesus’ brother who was going to take over the carpentry, had warned his older brother not to go too far with the elders, not go around saying he was god’s son when everybody knew his father Joseph was a carpenter. Adultery was a stoning offence in those days, and also, it made Maria blush with embarrassment; but she loved Jesus, the first born followed him around and saw to it that he had a bath and a clean burnoose. Where I grew up the sky was vast in April and once I saw a man, in a white suit, disappearing as he walked along a long, empty road. My father had once been a seafarer and had bought a white suit in Panama, but why was he walking away from me? I cycled along the road to catch up with the man in white. Was it my father or Jesus I had hoped to see? The sun hangs low now it is getting colder and the shadow of the carob tree, where I often sit unseen and dream, is loosening its spell on me.