For several years, we thought we were done with dyeing and hiding eggs on Easter as our youngest grandchild was a preteen. I must say, I missed the hurrying with lunch on Easter Sunday and having the older children hide the colored eggs and helping the little ones find them.
I did not miss dyeing the eggs. I always tried to get all the necessities ready while the eggs were boiling so that the coloring would go smoothly. But, for some reason, my kitchen always turned into a calamity. Each cup held one color, mixed with the vinegar, and dissolved. I thought that using one cup per color and all the cups sitting on an old, folded towel would keep the muddle to a minimum. I’m sure it would have; except, I have very inquisitive grandchildren. “Meme, what color will the yellow turn if I mix it with chocolate syrup?” They could never be happy with just yellow. They believed that salt or sugar or a sprinkle of the many spices sitting on my counter would turn the color to Dragon’s blood, mummy brown, or goose-poop green. All the spices added were trash to the water. But this never stopped their inquisitive minds. When we finished, we had rainbows covering most of my kitchen floors and all down the hallway.
Now, we have a new little egg hunter. She has never enjoyed an Easter, so we are once again dyeing eggs and hiding them in plain sight for her to gather. She will have her little Easter basket filled with PLASTIC eggs for reasons I’m sure you can guess.
I remember going to my grandmother’s house on Easter, dressed in a dress my mother had hand sewn for me — before handmade was fashionable except to me — and wearing a little white hat with a flower, my white gloves, and patent shoes. I can’t remember her ever making me change before eating lunch or hunting eggs, but I never really remember getting my dress dirty. I have been told I was a persnickety little girl and never wanted to get dirty. I don’t believe our little Emmie Jo will be this way because she loves to pick up dirt, trash, and anything in her sight. And usually eats it right down.
My husband has reminded me once again not to use real eggs and forget where we hide them because real boiled eggs don’t smell like roses when the lawn mower runs over them a few weeks later.
My recipe for egg salad:
6 hard boiled eggs, cut up chunky, ¾ cup of mayonnaise, ¼ cup diced celery, ½ cup sweet pickle relish, ¼ cup diced green onions
Mix well and sprinkle with smoked paprika. Eat with crackers or in a sandwich.
