When I think of Easter, I can’t help but reminisce of the wonderful Sundays I spent as a little girl. My mom would dress my sister and me in frilly Easter dresses that were purchased weeks in advance and had been hanging in her closet so that I, her very rambunctious ADHD child, wouldn’t have the opportunity to play dress-up. On Sunday morning, with freshley curled hair and (finally) wearing our frilly dresses, we proudly strutted our white lacy socks and shiny white patent leather Sunday Shoes.
But more than the frilly dresses and socks, moreso even than the shiny white shoes, was the basket loaded with goodies that sat waiting for us to find when we first awoke. Our baskets were the highlight of the day: plastic eggs loaded with candy, a chocolate bunny and a larger stuffed bunny. As delightful as everything was, there was one thing I loathed – the hard-boiled decorated eggs.
Don’t misunderstand me. I LOVED decorating them the day before. I loved the way the colors blended and the way no two eggs ever came out the same. I just couldn’t stand eating them, and that was mandatory! That old phrase “finders keepers” applies here. At some point between morning service and lunch, my older brothers and my dad would hide the eggs for my sister and me to find. But once you found the egg and put it in your basket, it was yours for later, non-negotiable. You don’t waste food!
Now, many years later, I relish the thought of beautifully decorated eggs. This Easter season is a fresh reminder of how hard my hens work to provide us with the fresh food for our table, and, with the warmer weather after our snow-polcalypse, my girls are back in business. They are laying eggs faster than we can consume or sell, but there’s just one glitch: They seldom lay in the same spot regularly, those little hussies!
Every evening, as my husband and I tuck them safely away in the coop, we dig through shavings, look behind boards, and under every bush (which is risky in snake country!). The places these girls lay eggs never cease to amaze us. We’ve found eggs in the rarely-used burn barrel, inside flower pots, inside the barn sink, and even in the wood pile.
Every day is our own personal Easter egg hunt! Now if only I had a frilly dress…
What's up, Mother Cluckers? 