When was the last time you painted Easter eggs? (If you heard the kerfuffle last week about taking “Easter” out of the egg-painting tradition, rest assured, I will not be calling them “spring spheres.” )
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d painted eggs, so when that was a surprise activity at a recent all-girls’ get-together, I was thrilled.
Easter eggs evoke all the wonderful family memories I have of this holiday. My parents always set up an Easter egg hunt for me and my brother. (Mini Eggs, usually.) My brother’s self-control always amazed me. He would eat 12 calories-worth of eggs and set his basket aside. Not me. I would be in a sugar coma by 10 a.m.
One Easter, I took a bus, all by my little self, to Wainwright, to spend the weekend with my grandparents. They set up a great hunt for 12 big eggs hidden around the house. So great, in fact, that my grandpa couldn’t remember where the 12th egg was. We eventually gave up and sat down for breakfast. I can still hear his laugh — sudden and strong, from his belly — when he spotted the rogue egg. (He had set it on top of the phone, which hung on their kitchen wall.) I’ve thought of that morning every Easter since.
So, back to painting Easter eggs. It was so much fun.
Here are the lovely girls, along with the essential ingredients for a successful Easter egg experience. Wine is not essential to painting eggs. It’s just something we like.
A lot of blood, sweat and wine went into my egg. There’s a reason I’m a writer, not a painter.
I wish you a happy Easter, as does Christina. We’re taking tomorrow off, so we’ll see you Monday!