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It’s still a bit cool right now (44 degrees F.) to work outside comfortably, but it’s supposed to warm up this afternoon. I’m planning to prep my two brick tomato planters and then maybe head to town to get plants so I can enjoy much of my weekend playing in the dirt.
I’m enjoying the fact that we don’t have any errands we NEED to do, no appointments, no chores we HAVE to do, no bad weather, no schedule. Ahhhhh. We can do what we like WHEN we like. Sheer luxury.
When I was a child a hundred years or so ago, I always looked forward to Easter weekend. Sometimes we went to an Easter egg hunt. One time our neighborhood had one.
Easter was one of the times of the year I got new clothes – something special to wear to the church service. One year I got my favorite sweater EVER – a light-as-air pullover fuzzy pink one that made me feel pretty. My mom got me a tweedy wool skirt to go with it. I still remember how special I felt when I got black patent leather shoes with straps then went over the top. They were so shiny I could see my face in them. :0)
Sometimes we got chocolate rabbits. I always ate an ear off first. A few times we dyed eggs as a family. We had some wax white crayons we used to draw designs or write words on the eggs before we dyed them.
Some Easters, before people really thought things through, baby rabbits and baby chicks were sold at stores, usually dyed pretty pastel colors.
My parents had had actual rabbits as pets (we had two – one named “Peter” and the other “Welsh” – for Welsh Rarebit.) They didn’t like the idea of getting a dyed one, but one year all my friends and I got dyed chicks. No one thought about whether it was a good idea or not, or thought about the actual chicks, who, if they made it through, might not make wonderful pets.
Luckily, we had one mother in the neighborhood who was my idea of the PERFECT mother. (She was always welcoming to her kids’ friends, baked chocolate chip cookies, let us run a ‘camp’ one year, etc. – who adopted the chicks as they grew up, lost the dye, and became actual chickens as the newness wore off and more active care was needed.
Our church service was beautiful – filled to the brim with spirit-lifting music. Children would walk down the center aisle to sit at the front if they wanted to, carrying small baskets of fruit. We had a really good organist while we lifted our voices in song. My heart would nearly burst with the beauty of it all and the joy spilling out of me.
I wish you a joy-filled weekend.
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