“God created the month of March to give people who don’t drink a chance to feel what a hangover is like.”Garrison Keillor
Another dreary cloud-filled March day here in the part of our world we like to call Keloland.
Like a lot of you, I’ve accepted the reality that March is going to be windy, cloudy and cold so there’s no point in getting my hopes up of the golf courses opening early.
Also, because Easter is determined by one of the equinoxes (I forget which one) there’s little chance that the grandkids will be able to take their search for hidden Easter eggs outside this Sunday.
So when we all head over to my sister-in-law’s farm for the holiday celebration, the kids will have to do their egg hunting indoors because it’s much too muddy outside.
My mom, bless her soul, used to boil up a couple dozen eggs and, after they’d cooled, let her three boys dip them into dishes filled with food coloring. Then we were told the Easter Bunny would be stopping by sometime during the night to hide them for us to find on Easter morning.
I don’t ever remember seeing that rabbit but he must have been a fair-weather hare because he always opted to conceal the eggs INSIDE our home.
I don’t think my brothers and I ever really bought into the whole Easter Bunny thing. We had enough on our minds trying to figure out the Holy Trinity much less a connection between Jesus’ resurrection…chicken eggs and a rabbit.
Anyway, we played along and on Sunday morning, mom would say, “Time for you boys to get up now and find where those eggs are.”
After a couple years of this, we knew most of the hiding spots: behind the mantle clock, above the kitchen stove (two were usually there) in the fern plant, behind the telephone, under the doily on the folk’s nightstand etc.
Once we’d gathered them up, Mom would make sure all the eggs were accounted for then we’d get ready for church. (The Easter bunny must have filled her in on the correct number)
One year, though, mom became concerned because the totals didn’t add up. One egg was still missing.
We looked and looked; even Dad joined in the search but no luck.
Eventually, we concluded that the count must have been wrong and we soon forgot all about it.
By the time the month of May rolled around, though, it was hard not to notice a foul aroma coming from the bathroom area. We just blamed Dad at first but it kept getting worse even when the old man hadn’t been home for hours.
Finally, Mom had had enough and said we were going to find the source of that stink if takes all day.
So, all five of us wound up walking around the house sniffing the air like a pack of bloodhounds.
Eventually, one of us zeroed-in on the floor lamp by the bathroom hallway.
Sure enough, when the light was turned on the silhouette of an oval-shaped object was clearly visible in the globe.
It was the missing Easter egg that had been fermenting to a nose-curling stench for over a month.
Mom grabbed a section of newspaper, snatched up the offensive smelling orb and took it directly out to the trash barrel in the alley.
“How come the Easter Bunny didn’t tell you where he hid that last one?” we asked her with a laugh.
“If you think it’s so funny, she said, just wait until next Easter when he doesn’t show up at all.”
Come to think of it that WAS the last time…for us anyway.
He didn’t return until our own children got to spend Easter at Grandma’s house.
After the hunt, though, Mom always made sure to double check the hall lamp.
Linda, Doug and Granddaughter, Zoey HAPPY EASTER!