I think Easter is my favorite holiday. It's my favorite time of year and I just love everything about it. This year was especially good for some reason. The weather was perfect, and we had lots of time to celebrate/study Holy Week as a family, and we tried some new egg-dyeing techniques, and my friend Beth made me a bunny bracelet . . . it was just a lovely week.
Egg artists at work
Onion-skin dyed eggs
We tried a couple different negative-space effects (can't think of the real term?)---white crayon (top) and clear nail polish (below). It was really fun to see how they all turned out.
The whole collection
Everyone looked so cute. I love this picture of my happy, grown-up Abraham.
Thoughtful Junie
My gargantuan belly seems to be the focal point of this picture. Lovely. Speaking of which, how is it possible that there are still people on this earth who aren't aware that the ONLY comment you should ever make to a pregnant woman about her appearance is, "You look wonderful!"?
Easter Egg hunts provide the best picture opportunities. There's something so cute about kids hunting for eggs! I think we broke fully 50% of them during this hunt, but luckily we can eat lots of them at a time (we like deviled eggs and egg salad!) so they didn't end up going to waste.
Little pink runner
This tiny girl was so sweet and serious about her first (real) Easter Egg hunt. She carried her basket around very carefully, but not carefully enough to keep her one egg from falling out of it every minute or so. We'd call her over to where the egg had fallen, and she'd happily "find" it again and put it back in her basket.
These boys are so handsome!
Relief. Batik. There are any number of crafty terms for isolating an area so that it doesn't take the dye, thus becoming part of the design through resistance rather than application. And you are astute in your observation that the boys are handsome and the girls delightful. It is just so. The pink runner is my fave of all the images, though it's hard to choose just one. My own Lorri looks as wonderful as you do to the point where she is about to be induced - tomorrow - which is why I'm here, reading and commenting at two in the morning, het up with nerves. I love Easter too. All of it. I loved the smell of the vinegar in the dying dieing coloring and the little horrible wire egg handling things when I was little. When my mother joined the church (my father emphatically not interested at the time - later, much later, to become bishop and patriarch - and it was Easter, I guess she had decided that religion trumped egg hunts. But she didn't inform us of this new philosophy. Like we weren't going to know it was Easter weekend and expect the usual delights and mysteries and glories. So we got up that morning to - nothing. Oh, she'd made dresses for us, and she carted us off to church, but not before I made it abundantly clear that you don't dump a beloved tradition unilaterally, and it wasn't going to fly. So dad hid some plastic eggs in the backyard while we were at church, which helped somewhat - until we realized that they were few and empty. It was the last time they made that mistake. It was not the last time I'd see that they really didn't factor the children's hearts into life very much. Which is why I bent over backwards to do that as much as I could. And why I love watching the way you bring up your own.
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