eggs in a basket (or bag)

Easter is not my thing.  It really isn’t.  I love tradition though and therefore I love a good old-fashioned egg hunt.  I knew one would come in time for the big fancy Sunday in our future anyways, but I had  intentions of “doing something” on the first day of spring.  Sigh… of course I let it slip my mind and was unprepared for little more than some bird house painting.

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But it worked out!  I could see this becoming a fantastic ritual as well.  It seems these little boys of mine are becoming birders just like their old lady and well it fills my cup I believe.  To the brim.  Our favorite game has been guess the bird in the tree, the bird being Miles or Rowan scaling high up in the magnolia or fig tree cooing or crowing or hooing or tweeting, and me identifying them.  They flit- flit- flitter over to where I am lying in the grass basking in the sweet smelling wisteria while of course swatting gnats, right under our makeshift tent.  This happens to be my favorite game yet.

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We won these play silks on from the wonderful Mosey Handmade!  They are absolutely not overrated, dyed to perfection, soft and silky and beautiful and flowing (even enough for mama to sling around her neck for a bit of decoration) and have quickly become a favorite toy in this home.

Besides my heathen mind getting in the way of more traditional pastimes, I managed to loosen up a bit and attend the second annual egg hunt at my favorite house in Savannah.  This home feels like you are living in tree fort, the living area being high up among the branches.  Its cozy and eccentric and interesting and the food is always so good and the company always superb.  Last year they filled the eggs with pictures of birds, I saved them all, it is true.  This year they opted for the horse sticker which was a winner as well.

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One year ago this little guy crawled around the yard.  Now he teetered around on his chubby little limbs collecting a few eggs when he thought of it. There is nothing like a yearly tradition to remind you of how fast these days go by.  It is hard to believe we have been here long enough to attend the second annual anything.  It usually takes me a full year to soak in a new location, to stop pining for the past, to feel at ease among your friends, to not get lost trying to go… anywhere.  It has happened.  I do love this big southern state and all the people who fit inside it.

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