6 April 2020, Easter

Easter at my parents’ place. A joyous occasion, prepared long in advance. Crafting, baking, cuteness. We ate lots of eggs to create the Easter canvas. We didn’t crack them, we poked a small hole in the top, a larger at the bottom. Blow out the egg; suck in, blow out a bit of warm water to rinse out any eggy remains. The hole on the top just big enough for a piece of match, to tie around a piece of wool or yarn, to hang up the painted eggs. We spent hours covering the hollow eggs with paint, in wild splashes of colour or intricate drawings.

A pussy willow in the garden lost a few branches for the indoor Easter tree, some years it was a Forsythia just bursting into green leaves and yellow flowers.

Fluffy chicks and cute bunnies in all shapes and sizes appeared in the supermarkets and every shop window, daffodils, called Easterbells in German, in gardens and florist shops.

Easter Sunday. When the church bells called believers to the pews we gathered for our annual feast. The linen table cloth embroidered with Easter motifs of chicks, bunnies, eggs and flowers. An even larger than usual spread of meats - roast beef and prosciutto, liver pate, smoked ham. A selection of cheeses, quark, jams - strawberry & rhubarb, 4-fruit, currant jelly, raspberry, lavender honey. Freshly baked bread and a yeasty warm Easter bread. In front of each plate setting a nest of green paper grass, an gold wrapped Easter bunny with a red necklace and bell, a few small chocolate Easter eggs. A special Easter egg cup holding a warm, coloured soft-boiled egg. A German crown cake resided in the middle of the vast table, decorated in butter cream, nutty brittle and little sugar eggs indicating the generous slices. It was a long affair, this Easter breakfast - everything delicious, oh so much choice, the decision to stop eating was always hard and often came too late for tummy comfort.

At some stage my father disappeared to be the Easter bunny, to hide eggs in our vast garden. We collected them into a big bowl to ensure all of us received a fair share. The hidden Lindt eggs were carefully counted, to ensure we found them all. Sometimes it took hours. The year our new puppy joined in the hunt the number of eggs didn’t work out; we had to negotiate who gets which flavour.

Easter. In Europe the beginning of spring. The trees start to colour in new green, early flours colour the previously grey gardens. A time of lengthening days with summer on the horizon…