It surely could not have been a more beautiful day. The sky was completely blue, the new leaves on the trees a sweet shy new green of their own making. I did what I usually did on these occasions and got up and immediately began chopping and cooking and mixing and rolling and cutting out and grating and chopping some more and by about nine thirty I had a frittata or Spanish tortilla or whatever-you-call-it in the oven which had in it: onions, mushrooms, kale, red peppers, tomatoes, cheese, eggs, and potatoes. Also shallots. The tiny ham was wrapped up cozy in aluminum foil and was in the oven too. I had the biscuits on the baking sheet and rising. And the kitchen looked like there'd been an explosion in it but by the time people started getting here, everything was tidied up and we were ready to begin partying.
My little Easter Egg.
The baskets were well received although only August seemed to be truly thrilled. Gibson immediately started writing police tickets with his pad and pen. I said at one point that I had fifteen eggs in the frittata and he whipped out his pad and said, "I'm going to have to write you a ticket for that."
And he did.
I kept worrying that there was not enough food. There were eleven of us plus Levon. And one frittata and a couple of dozen biscuits and a small ham. And that was it. Everyone kept telling me there'd be enough but we whipped up some deviled eggs out of the egg-hunt eggs before we sat down to eat. And what's Easter without deviled eggs?
Lower in cholesterol, that's what.
Here the children are, being forced to sit all together for a photo before they can begin to go find eggs.
I have about six pictures of this same exact line-up and Gibson had the same face in each one of them. The EXACT SAME FACE.
He was a little grouchy today.
We let the littles get a head start on finding the eggs.
Maggie is taking out the quarter and nickel in this egg, hoping to find candy.
And then we let the big guys go for it.
Some smarty pants Easter Bunny left two eggs WAY up in a tree. August got some help from his dad and retrieved them.
Owen's rocking the samurai hair. He's always been my beautiful little rock star.
May and Michael, watching the proceedings. I was SO glad they came out.
And this is what we looked like at the table where, BELIEVE IT OR NOT, there was more than enough food to go around and then some. We ate our egg pie and our biscuits and our ham and there was much passing of honey and butter and jam and hot sauce and oh yeah, the deviled eggs were okay.
And then, after awhile, everyone left and the kitchen had been cleaned up and the tables put back in the house and the napkins and tablecloths were in the wash and then Mr. Moon finally got everything together with his boat and his fishing stuff and his clothes and his medications and his pillows and he left too.
And it's so quiet.
I swear, I don't quite know what to do with myself. I don't need to make a supper for my husband. The tablecloths and napkins are washed and on the line looking so pretty with the sun setting behind them, shining through the colors of cloth like stained glass and I don't have to worry about them until tomorrow when I take them off the line. My laundry loads will be so much fewer and far between. The house is reasonably tidy and I swept after every one left and...well?
I haven't been by myself in so very long, it seems. Since hunting season, at least.
Oh, there are so many things to do. I could make Maggie some new summer dresses. She's outgrown all the ones I made last year. I could go to a movie! What? What?! Haven't done that in years.
And no, I'm not kidding.
I can plant my cucumbers and squash and zinnias and okra.
I can pickle some more beets.
And Lord knows I need to mop a few floors. And clean out the refrigerator. Oh god. I don't want to talk about that.
I can go sit on my front porch and rock and watch the view from there. Isn't that what old southern people are supposed to do anyway?
I can sit here on this back porch and simply watch the birds at the feeder and the chickens as they scratch beneath it and watch the sky for hawks and swallowtail kites and pileated woodpeckers.
I can be quiet and I can be still.
I can fully and truly appreciate this beautiful spot I am so lucky to live in.
I can think and I can read.
I can note and wonder at the blossom on the Ashe magnolia.
I can breathe in its lemony perfume.
I can just be.