Easter

On Monday I began our preparations for Easter. At the top of my list was making pickled eggs and beets. Pickled eggs go way back in my family, a part of our Pennsylvania German heritage. As a child, no family gathering at Easter or any of the cookout/picnic holidays was complete without them. It seemed to me that my Grandma and Grandad Rathfon always had a jar of them in their refrigerator. At our house now, we mostly have them at Easter. I’m sorry to say that some members of my present family don’t care for them. Some like the eggs, but not the beets. I love them both. I try to make them at least five or six days ahead. The longer the eggs pickle, the deeper the color and flavor. I saved the smallest eggs from my hens for a week and ended up with twenty-one of them. Monday morning I hard boiled them. While they were cooking, I went down cellar and brought up the last two jars of beets that I canned in 2022. I will grow and can more beets this year. I warmed the beets in their juice, added vinegar, sugar, whole cloves, and cinnamon sticks. As I was peeling the eggs, two of them split, so I ate them for lunch. I put the eggs and the beets and the juice into a large glass jar and put it in the fridge to pickle until Sunday.

Eggs pickling for Easter.

I also began Easter housecleaning on Monday. I used to be very fussy, insisting on a thorough spring cleaning before Easter, but not anymore. Knowing we would have a full house for Easter made it seem a bit futile to have everything spic and span clean with so many people in the house. So during the week I just did a general tidying to get the guest room aired and other rooms surface clean. This week I will start the post Easter big spring cleaning.

The weather during the first part of the week was more springlike, and I appreciated that. It was warm enough that the rain barrel down at the barn thawed and I stopped carrying water down from the house – again. I unplugged the water heaters in the coop – again. The crocuses emerged from the snow – again. They were bedraggled, but I was so glad to see them.

Crocuses under snow.

A warm day later.

Tuesday morning we had a spectacular sunrise. I went down to the beaver pond to enjoy it. The colors of the sky reflected in the water made it doubly beautiful. That lovely crimson sky was an indication of approaching rain. The old adage “Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning,” proved true once again. I went out to do as much yard work as I could before it arrived. I started in the woodshed where I potted some lily bulbs and inspected the seed trays. I was delighted to find some of the seed I planted last week has sprouted. Moving outdoors, I had to stand and contemplate a moment. There is so much that needs to be done that I have a hard time picking a place to begin. That day, I did a quick inspection of the orchard, cleared some fallen branches from the lawn, and raked out the old raspberry bed, and did some weeding in the long border. The rain held off until the evening and I was thankful for that.

Sunrise on Tuesday.

New sprouts in the seed trays.

Wednesday was the warmest day of the week. We hit 58°. I took advantage of that to do some wet tasks that would have been miserable on a cold day. I hauled out the hose and washed the front porch. I added fresh water to the lily pond. While doing that, I discovered the first clump of toad eggs in the water. I also planted a tray of tomato seeds. I would have done a tray of peppers too, but I ran out of seed starter soil. I spent two hours repairing some of the raised beds that had begun to come apart at the corners. Then I spent most of the rest of the day weeding.

Weeding flowerbeds.

Repaired raised beds.

Toad eggs in the lily pond.

I have to deal with quite a few persistent weeds – chickweed, cleavers, speedwell, sheep sorrel, galinsoga, and sunchokes. But we have an especially obnoxious weed grass here, the bane of my flowerbeds. Its scientific name is Elytrigia repens, which makes it sound respectable, even elegant. It has several common names, couch grass, witch grass, twitch grass, quackgrass, that hint at its true nature. I call it devil grass because it is the most wicked weed in my flower gardens. It is a perennial grass that spreads by seed and by long underground rhizomes. I never let it go to seed. It’s the rhizomes that are the problem. I try to dig them out without damaging the flowers growing there, but it is almost impossible to remove them. Some of the rhizomes are a yard or more long and they weave in and out among the roots of the desirable plants. Every tiny section of rhizome that breaks off and gets left in the soil sprouts and grows vigorously. I think I will end up having to completely dig up the areas where it has invaded, flowers and all, and start over.

After spending all day in the yard, I realized that I’ve arrived at a time in my life when working in the garden makes me feel young, as it always has, but now it also makes me feel old. I can’t work as long or as vigorously as I once could. I find myself pausing every half hour or so to “contemplate the joys of nature,” which is really a personal code phrase for “I need to rest.” Perhaps as the season goes on and my gardening muscles get toned a bit, I’ll do better, but I’m not kidding myself. I feel my limitations creeping further and further every passing year. I tell myself I either need to downsize or get better mechanical equipment to make things easier.

Wednesday ended with a beautiful sunset. It was one of those odd sunsets where the sky in the east was more impressive than in the west where the sun was setting.

The eastern sky at sunset on Wednesday.

Thursday was sunny, but colder. I worked outdoors, but spent time taking frequent breaks, sitting closed up in my little greenhouse where the sunshine was warm. In the late morning, Kurt and I drove over to the Jones’s to pick up more tomato cages and had a nice chat with Bob and Nancy. Nancy’s gardens have more flowers in bloom than mine, but she always does. She has daffodils in bloom already. They only live nine miles from here, but my garden is always behind hers in the growing season.

That day, Hannah and Miriam made a whirlwind trip to Pittsburgh and back to get Hannah’s new car. When they came home, they brought Hazel, June, and Mabel back with them. The energy level jumped immediately with the granddaughters here. It’s amazing how that happens. Later that evening, the Murrays, Kailie, Ian, and their baby Theo, arrived. They are staying over at the Shillig’s house. That night, as we were going to bed, I caught a whiff of a sweet fragrance and realized that the night-blooming jasmine in the music room was blooming. Just one little branch of it. I could smell it all through the downstairs of the house. It made me happy.

Hannah with her new car.

On Good Friday I spent the morning listening to Bach’s St. Matthew Passion. I look forward to doing that all year. I know I can listen to it anytime I want, but it makes it more special that I wait until Good Friday. It is a magnificent masterpiece.

Friday was supposed to be a big work day. I had plans to put up the high tunnel, clean out the chicken coop, and work on the hedge out in the orchard. But it was even colder that day. We started the day at 16° and it never got above 34°. That was too cold for anyone to want to be outdoors. So none of it got done and it will all have to wait for warmer weather. Rachel, Tabor, Florence, and Russell arrived at lunchtime to join the party. So instead of a work day, we stayed indoors and visited, played games, and enjoyed being together. That evening the Shilligs and Murrays came here for homemade pizza night. Hannah made delicious pizzas and the Shilligs brought their famous mosquito salad.

June and Hazel playing Nancy Drew.

June and Mabel playing with the dollhouse.

My two chore helpers, Mabel and Florence.

Friday night pizza.

Yesterday Rachel, Tabor, Stacey, and I took Hazel to the temple for her first time to do baptisms. She will be twelve in September. We had a great experience. After the temple, Hazel got to choose where to eat lunch, so we stopped for lunch at a nice barbeque restaurant in Palmyra and then ice cream at the Chill and Grill. Meanwhile at home, Miriam, Hannah, and the younger children had a fun day together. Dinner was Mexican food with the Shilligs and Murrays in attendance again. We really know how to make great food. After dinner, we dyed Easter eggs.

At the temple with Hazel.

Russell and Florence helping Grandma peel carrots.

Dying eggs.

Dying eggs.

Dyed eggs.

Easter morning was gray and chilly, not the sort of morning I’d hoped for, but I had glory in my heart. I woke up with music playing in my head, the beautiful aria from Handel’s Messiah, “I know that my Redeemer liveth.” Later in the morning, when more people were up and getting ready for church, I listened to it aloud.

Our Easter service today was dominated by our family. That happens a lot in our little branch. We gave talks and provided the music. Stacey and I were the speakers. Stacey gave a great talk on the Atonement. I spoke on the Resurrection. The Thayn girls sang Did Jesus Really Live Again. Stacey and Hannah led the congregation in singing He Is Risen and Christ the Lord is Risen Today, two of my most favorite hymns. It was a good service.

After church we had two special family events. Kurt ordained Ian, Kailie’s husband, an elder. Then Ian gave their baby a blessing. The children hunted for their Easter baskets. Our feast was excellent. We had everyone here plus our two missionaries. We had our traditional menu – ham, funeral potatoes, zesty carrots, fruit salad, pickled eggs, deviled eggs, and for dessert, a pound cake with crushed strawberries, and chocolate Easter eggs.

After church.

Easter dinner, table one.

Easter dinner, table two.

As part of my talk today, I quoted Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, chapter 15. When I reached the words, “the trumpet shall sound and the dead shall be raised,” I was suddenly overcome with powerful thoughts of my father. I had to stop reading to come to grips with the emotions I was feeling. I love the reality of the resurrection of the dead, that through the gift of our Savior, through His Atonement and Resurrection, death is conquered and we will all live again. I will see my father and all those I love who have gone before. We will all be made immortal and incorruptible. O death where is thy sting? O grave where is thy victory? But thanks be to God who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ! I wish you a joyous Easter!