started out with a return to church for Pentecost; lovely flowers in red and white on the altar. Not red for Pentecost, but red and white for Mother's Day. I didn't realize this, but you wear a red corsage on the right if your mother is living , but white on the left (over your heart) if your mother has died. I had never heard of this tradition, but did see someone in the pew in front of me wearing a white one.
I did my altar guild duties and was rewarded with some fresh pineapple at coffee hour. (We had a lively altar guild luncheon on Saturday, during which I learned some interesting tidbits about local lore, local notable gossip, and where the best bars around town used to be.)
Then home, where I began to make an incredibly aromatic sauce (using giblets, cracked wings, red wine, carrots, onion, bay leaf, thyme, etc.) for my much-anticipated Mother's Day duck dinner, to be accompanied by sumptuous butternut squash, creamy mashed potatoes, and green beans with a squeeze of lemon.
Or so I thought.
Just as I began the oven heating, the ENTIRE house was sunk into darkness, all machines sighing off. We called the electric company (no idea, ma'am . . .), waited an hour, then went out for Mother's Day pizza. Sigh. And returned to the evening gloaming, still in darkness.