The second Sunday of Lent. At this point I'm begining to waver in my resolve - it happens every year. The excesses of Carnival have been forgotten and I'm starting to think longingly of Easter feasting. The next week and a half are ideal times for me to plan my Easter meal, if I wait too much longer, I'm completely in Lenten mode, and my Easter planning begins to look decidely penitential - not exactly festive.

I love this time of Lent, because it is such a challenge. The scents of meats and cheeses are so much stronger, and I begin to appreciate aromas in a way that is impossible during the year. The scent of heaven in these weeks is meatier than it ought to be.

These days are ideal for projects which otherwise might be interupted by meals - throwing, sewing, writing, and of course, deep cleaning. During Lent, my writing and reading take a serious turn and I try to infuse my reading and writing time with ritual and beauty. Tea is essential, partially because it is warm, soothing, and has lovely steam rising from the cup, and partially because it is the only thing I can consume on every day of Lent. With my cup in hand, my icon around me, a good pen, a good book, and good music, I feel almost sensually indulgent - even fasting.