time of the season
time of the season
Spring has sprung, as they say. Never mind that I was freezing my ass off yesterday or that I still have the heat on in the house. It's spring, damn it. Easter is next week and that means little kids in cute dresses and bonnets, not down jackets and knit caps.
Ok, no bonnets. When was the last time you saw a kid in an Easter bonnet? You're lucky if you can get kids into a simple pair of dress pants or a nice sweater these days. Well at least my kids. Dress-up means wearing jeans instead of sweats. The Ranger jersey instead of the Bruins jersey.
So anyhow, it's spring and Easter break is here and this is a week of preparation and symbolism. Atheist as I may be, my family is not and I conform to their holiday rituals if not for my kids, then at least for the food.
We do Passover as well, because my brother-in-law is Jewish and his family is out of state. It's basically just for the ritual of it. I think he learned all he knows about this holiday from Rugrats Passover. It's all about the ritual.
We go through the decorating of the Easter eggs and the hiding of the Easter eggs and the realization a week later that the smell coming from under the radiator is the egg that got away. We have dispensed with the idea of the Easter bunny and the kids get baskets filled with things like baseball cards and colored, sparkly lip gloss. That's for Natalie, not DJ. Though you never know.
I make Easter bread because I made it one year out of boredom and I got stuck doing it every year since. It's messy, it takes a long time and I really hate baking, but the end result is pretty damn satisfying. I end up eating way too much of the uncooked dough and I get a stomach ache every year. Symbolism: Easter makes me sick.
I give Easter gifts to my sisters and my mother and aunts. I buy small clay pots and fill them with packets of seeds and small gardening tools. I may not be part of the real ritual and meaning of Easter in the catholic tradition, but I can still find symbolism in the holiday. Easter, to me, is a celebration of spring and renewal and growth. Hence the seeds and planters.
And while Easter is sort of the beginning of things, it also marks a halfway point in the year for me. School is winding down. Summer is coming. Time to think about summer camp and summer vacations and wondering where the hell another school year went. It seems like I spend the entire year lamenting the months that just passed and dreading the months ahead. There's always one more obstacle ahead of you, but then again there's always one more obstacle left behind.
So even though it's only about 30 degrees out, I'll head over to the local greenhouse today and look over the flats of flowers they have out, pick out a few and bring them home with the full realization that I will probably kill them before they really have the chance to flourish. I have a black thumb. I can't even keep fake plants healthy. The flats will sit out on my porch until about 3 weeks from now, when I find the time to plant them. But again, it's the act of buying the flowers and making the attempt. Turning over the earth, digging down and putting new life into it. And finding underneath the bush, that last, now-rotted Easter egg that we forgot about.