They say you don’t remember much before the age of 4, so I’m
assuming our granddaughter’s first two Easter celebrations were a bit of a
blur. She’s well aware that something is up this year, however. Even a
pre-schooler can’t ignore the constant barrage of bunnies, chicks and pastel
coloured eggs in every store she enters.
Leti’s mom used to help me run my home daycare when she was a
little girl, and she was a preschool teacher herself for a time as an adult, so
she is well versed in arts and crafts for fledgling artists. I will soon have
new artwork for my fridge: bunnies created by tracing a pudgy little hand,
baskets of coloured eggs that are primarily pink (her favourite colour), spring
flowers, and butterflies. When my fridge is covered, I move the creations to
our secondary fridge. It’s hard to put them away but I tuck them into my photo
box when I need to make room for more.
We are not a regular churchgoing family. Our holiday customs
seem to always centre on food. When it comes to Easter traditions on the Fisher
Farm, it pretty much comes down to chocolate fondant eggs. For as long as I can
remember, those huge (size of a goose egg) solid candies have been part of our
springtime celebrations. My mother was part of the local sorority, Beta Sigma
Phi. The “Laura Secord’ style fondant eggs were their creation. I think every
kid whose mom was in that group is now addicted to those eggs.
When I became a mom, I made a huge mistake. I bought the
vanilla, the sugar and the canned milk and I started making the eggs myself.
Now my kids (who are 25 and up, raised on these eggs…) look for these decadent
treats each Easter.
I have shared the recipe in the past. Basically it’s a solid
ball of sweetened condensed milk and icing sugar and butter, rolled up and
dipped in melted chocolate. Just Google solid fondant Easter eggs and Bob’s
your uncle. And don’t forget to brush your teeth afterwards. Last year we had
our lovely Norwegian international student offer to make the eggs. She loved to
cook and wanted to take part in our traditions. She was possibly unprepared for
the messy situation of sticky, icing sugared fingers.
We had fun teaching Leti and her cousin Walt how to hunt for
eggs. The first year, the 18-month-olds wandered around the yard like two tiny
drunk men, smacking into each other, trying to figure out what I was saying.
“Go get the eggs! Look! There’s one!” Walt was way ahead of Leti on this, and
when he opened the plastic egg to find jelly beans inside, he would offer her a
candy, then change his mind and swipe it out of her reach. It was very
entertaining for the adults to watch. Leti, unoffended, would sit on the steps
then and swing her feet, giving Walt the side-eye of suspicion.
Last year, the 2.5 year olds suddenly knew how to play the
game. They collected the eggs, but Leti, twitterpated, was more interested in
following Walt around the yard. We got some wonderful photos from both of those
Easter egg hunts. Someday when they are teenagers we will show them pictures of
stolen kisses and shared giggles on the porch.
Easter at the Fisher Farm is all about family. We host about
40 guests for a lunch at 2pm on Easter Sunday. The young families show up
first, so the kids can do the egg hunt. Then our 5 children and their mates,
our siblings and parents and aunts and uncles show up for the feast. We may not
be a huge churchgoing family but we know we have a very unique situation here.
For lunch, we serve a turkey we raised ourselves. It lived
free range in the barnyard, a short but happy life. We go to Albert’s for the
ham, because what is Easter without it? Guests bring side dishes and Grandma
always shows up with some local maple syrup. Easter is nice and late this year,
so hopefully we will be able to enjoy a walk in the back 40 after lunch.
Because that is our church. The trees are the steeple. The stone fences are the
pews. God is all around us. We are blessed and we know it.
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