We're well past the official beginning of Spring, but for me, the true marker of the spring season is Easter. Easter has always been my favorite holiday and what better way to celebrate than to be on the Island. Nature wakes up from it's winter slumber, the fields and creeks come alive. I thought sharing this story by Gene Price would be 'fitting' for Easter. Happy Easter to everyone from me and Joe.
Reprinted from Folks Around Here, by Gene Price.
GOOSE CREEK ISLAND - John Steinbeck called it "the hour of the pearl."
It's that interlude between darkness and day "when time passes to examine itself."
At my camp on Goose Creek Island, a chorus of awakening birds provides background music for that time of soul-searching.
The birds begin their symphony before the lights come in most homes clustered in the village of Lowland near the confluence of Goose Creek and Pamlico River.
Thanks to an alarm clock with a propensity to go off an hour early, I crawled out of my sleeping bag earlier than usual on this Easter morning.
Four-thirty, I found, is a good time to stretch and scratch and have a cup of coffee while listening to the night sounds. And then to drive slowly around the still-sleeping community in my old pick-up, windows down so as not to miss the fading whip-poor-wills and the early-rising wrens.
My path took me by the Watson family cemetery and the Lowland Disciples of Christ Church. That had been the denomination of my boyhood in the Elizabeth City mill district. So, a forgivable pause for reflection as the truck idled by...
Obviously something was going to happen here this day. In the cemetery, some talented stagehands had erected a replica of the tomb where Jesus of Nazareth had been placed after the crucifixion. The stone had been rolled away.
To the northeast, across the road by the cemetery, a path of fronds led from an entranceway through what depicted a flowering Garden of Gethsemane. And in the distance, silhouetted against the early morning sky, three crosses.
As morning broke, young people came, dressed as those of that period. And townspeople made a pilgrimage through the garden and listened as the Rev. Bobby Waters told of the events of that time more than 2,000 years ago.
Youngsters silently acted out the drama - the trial and the sentencing and the washing of the hands.
As those who had come moved on toward the cemetery, their attention was called to the eastern horizon. Three of the community's young people now hung from the crosses.
Then there was the scene at the empty tomb and the message from the angels.
And from the garden of azaleas in the distance, accompanied by excited members of the cast, strolled a handsome young man, bearded and in a flowing white gown.
Those who had come burst into song, "He Lives!"
Sunrise services were held throughout the Christian world that Easter morning. But on this Island, during the "hour of the pearl," this little community produced a real gem.
