It may be irrelevant to sing my musings of wild baby bunnies and hunts for technicolored eggs two days after Easter Sunday, but I’ve got Cadburry Eggs in my pocket and sweetly speckled Robin Eggs hiding in the corners of my couch, and I simply cannot find it in me to let my Easter adventures come to an end.
Come Easter morning, there is nothing I would rather do than embrace the cold, purple morning than by running through the soft grass, still wet and sparkling with dew drops from the Moon. This is partly because by 8 a.m. I am already jacked up on the sugar that flourishes from my Easter basket. But there’s something instinctively inside me that simply cannot resist the lovely dawn. I suppose it’s the child that still lingers within me. The same one that must stubbornly accept the dreadful fact that I am "too old" to hunt for eggs.
I love the hunt. It is then that I feel truly wild, running recklessly through the trees and inviting foliage, my swift eyes keen to spot a creamy yellow, hot pink, or hidden green egg. And the thrill of kneeling amongst all the creatures and baby flowers, to tenderly crack open the captured egg as the coveted rainbow beans spill out into my palm. Even the greedy gold miners would be jealous.
On the Eve of Easter, I watched a dusty, beaten VHS that I have always held dear to my heart. Here Comes Peter Cottontail is a charming Rankin-Bass holiday television special from the seventies. I was delighted to watch the untold story of the Easter Bunny over and over again as I painted eggs, which I am most certainly not too old to do. It brought happiness to my soul and roses to my cheeks, and now the song "If I Could Only Get Back to Yesterday" will not drift out of my head. But it's a wonderful song. I long to play it on the banjo.
Morning mass commenced as the sun continued to ascend the sky, and although inside the stained glass-studded church ladies wore their pearls and their flowered bonnets atop curly locks, and gentlemen tugged at pristinely ironed ties and suits, I couldn't help but smile and indulge in my simple Easter ensemble. I certainly couldn't frolic with mother nature in lacy frills and studded pink heels now could I? All I needed was a cotton skirt and a flowy blouse that kissed my skin in the brisk breeze. I finished it off with what I have titled my "Greek Goddess Sandals," golden like the eggs of fairytales and Mr. Willy Wonka's factory. I believe what I wear should reflect the mood I feel and the spirit of the day. Lemon cupcakes, lavender lilacs, and Easter basket treats came together to form a dainty, youthful creation, good for hunting or not.
I hope all the adventurers out there had a wonderful Easter, filled with spicy carrot cake, chocolate bunnies, and white chocolate Reese's Eggs (drool). Should you still have any jelly beans left, try not to overdose a second time within the same week. And do not ever let anyone tell you that you are too old to hunt easter eggs. Keep up with the hunt, keep running wild with the bunnies and birds and foxes until you fall helplessly to the refreshing spring grass. Then feast on chocolate that melts so decadently on your fingers, beneath the beautiful blinding sun.