Easter scatterling of the world

Here's hoping for an amazing 'memory creating' Easter. As a child we didn't have many shop bought Easter eggs, in fact I think we each only received a large dark chocolate one with royal icing decoration on it. But Easter was more about the early morning trip to Church where we sang "There is a Green Hill far away without a city wall." My father sang with gusto and I personally would join in with enthusiasm. Warbling along and thoroughly enjoying myself. The Holy Cross church had been built during the time of my great grandfather, who was an Anglican minister and I believe he was there at the official opening and dedication, so it held a special place in my heart. Then there were the home-made hot-cross-buns baked by my Gran and by which all other subsequent hot-cross-buns have been judged and found wanting. Nothing shop bought except for the occasional piece of marzipan. Yes, I know that the commercialisation of the holy holidays has skewed our enjoyment, but my scatterling memories remind me of the tastes and the sounds more than anything else. Sitting on the back of a Land Rover, hurtling over the sand dunes of Zululand beaches, singing songs and laughing when someone got the words wrong. Having to grab onto the sides in case we were flung out when we hit a bump or splashed through a shallow steam. Monkeys chattering madly as we invaded their space and the Dikdik antelope skittering off into the bush. Snakes well camouflaged except for the odd lazing python curled up in a patch of sunshine. The smile you don't remember starting or even why, it just was. The laughter that bubbled up and filled your whole body with a tingle of joy. I know my childhood memories of Zululand might not match yours, but Easter in my family was always filled with people and songs and plenty to eat. I hear people say that the egg and the rabbit are pagan symbols that we should abhor, but if you look closer you will see that they are Christian and commemorate the original Easter story. The bunny rabbits remind us of Mary, the mother of Jesus. She is often depicted in paintings with a rabbit or hare at her feet. The Brown hare can fall pregnant while already pregnant with a litter of kits and without any male involvement. This convinced early Christians to believe that they were a similitude of a virgin birth. (Parthenogenesis) Yes, folks, it is quite common in the animal kingdom and has been known to occur in other species apart from bunnies. And then eggs, well they were the result of a ban on many foods during Lent, the 40 days before Easter. So, at the end of Lent farmers had plenty of eggs for consumption and they were often dyed or decorated and gifted. The hard boiled eggs were rolled down hills or emptied and filled with little gifts. I personally spent hours one year hollowing out eggs and filling them with Smarties (the original M&M's). We painted the eggs with pretty little flowers and sold them to fund a project at the kindergarten. There were no fizzy soda drinks in my childhood, just the occasional pineapple beer that, if left in the heat, sometimes veered into the alcoholic spectrum. Oros mixed with water and sugar and which often induced asthma attacks or shortness of breath was the drink of choice for children. 

By the time I had my own children, shops were filled with chocolate of the milk variety. No bitter black chocolate made it onto my children's wish lists. And, sadly, my grandmother's skill with hot-cross-buns did not eventuate in my cooking genes. My buns were stodgy, my spices and fruit not to the children's taste and yes, I did buy mine from a baker. I learnt of the Russian royal family and their pursuit of beauty in the Faberge eggs they gave as Easter gifts. There was a moment that I wondered if I could replicate the Faberge eggs with duck eggs and glass beads to bring wonder into our celebrations. But, no, my skills did not extend to that level of pretty pretty and sparklies. I made a Simnel cake once or twice, which is a real English tradition that I particularly enjoy. 11 balls of marzipan on the top of the cake representing the eleven 'good' disciples. Originating in the medieval times, the light fruit cake was first boiled and then baked. Yes, you are right, too much hard work when I can just buy a block of marzipan and scoff it down without having to make the cake. As the children grew, I would need to buy more than one block of marzipan as they considered it an Easter treat all on its own. No simnel cake required. My grandmother told me all about the traditions she had grown up with and it seemed like a lot of effort for very little reward. Nowadays my daughter and I make our own Easter eggs. This year it is peanut butter filled eggs with milk chocolate outers. I did consider making them with Nutella but my grandchildren are connoisseurs of Nutella and are not to be fooled with cheaper versions. Anyhow, I prefer to build memories of activities than spend up large on Easter eggs that will last a day. We went to Taupo on a cruise for our thirtieth anniversary of immigrating, which cost less than a dinner at a restaurant which was our second option. Trying to get all my family to agree on a date and a time was like herding cats, but we got there in the end. We cruised, we oohed and aahed and then we went to the thermal pools for a swim. The weather forecast was for a cyclone, but the weather gods were kind to us and all we got was a few clouds and the wind only picked up at night. Yay. And there were no tears or fights or arguments, Which is a true standard of success in my eyes. The only disappointment was that the clouds were so low that I couldn't see the volcano. Maybe next time? This year I have bought a few egg shaped animal figures that the grandkids can paint, or do whatever they want to with them. Purple people eater monkey? Or Punked pangolin? Hyped up hippo? 

Tomorrow I am doing a reading at Church and my granddaughter is singing a lovely song about Gethsemane. Then it will be home to slow cooked pork, potato salad and roast chicken and who knows what else. The children will run around like happy little monkeys and build their own memories. Will they remember the slow smile that builds into a guffaw when they are old? Will the taste of the peanut butter eggs stay with them for their whole lives? It's too late to make Faberge eggs and sure as heck they are too expensive to buy willy nilly. But when my grandchildren scatter to the four corners of the world and have their own families, what are the stories will they tell? We did make a quick foray into town today to buy cat food and the amount of people stocking up for Easter Armageddon was frightening. Why do people freak out when the shops close for a day of trading? Traffic into the main shopping hub was bumper to bumper and I was relieved that we could avoid that particular freak show of road rage and entitled drivers. At the car park, an old man shook his fist at us as he pushed an empty trolley. We had the right of way but obviously he had reached the end of his patience with people in general and decided that we should bear the brunt of his anger. We shrugged and rolled our eyes and let him push his cart in front of our car because, seriously, it didn't mean much to us to be two seconds late for our hot chocolate treat and a bag of cat biscuits. 

No, we will not be hiding the Easter eggs tonight. I remember the Easter where our dog found each and every foil wrapped Easter egg and ate the lot. Or the year we forgot where we hid them and some of the children didn't get their full quota. Tomorrow will be done with precision and planning, maybe.

Happy Easter