I have such a good Easter memory that I've treasured all my adult like. My grandma's oldest brother had one daughter who was close in age to my grandma (who was the baby of 8-9). She had one son (committed suicide) and one daughter, my dad's age, who had two daughters, one my age and one my brother's age. Anyway, Uncle Poit died long before I was born. But Aunt Annie was around a long time. She made THE BEST tea cakes. She lived in her own little house at her daughter's ranch. We would go for Easter, and I remember sitting on a splintered board swing in a white lacy dress and shiny white shoes, carefully peeling and eating a basket full of warm eggs that were probably store bought. I don't remember anyone having chickens. The ranch was cattle and horses, strawberry beds and onions, lots of dogs, and a small rabbit hutch. I always liked visiting because the walkways around their house had chains you had to clip and unclip to go through.
Anyway, when I see my kids hunting plastic eggs in shorts and flip flops it makes me a little sad.
Anyway, when I see my kids hunting plastic eggs in shorts and flip flops it makes me a little sad.
