this is a repeat of a much loved memory I want to resurrect today...

Easter Reflections

My first Easter memories involve my sister (2 years younger) and I when we were quite small. There was the anticipation of buying a fancy, new Easter dress, with new crisp white cotton gloves. And, equally important, fancy, new shoes to match.

I still remember a favorite pair of pink patent leather shoes with bows that I'd rub together, even during church, just to hear them squeak. If we'd fuss and whine a little extra, we might get a new handbag or hat with matching grosgrain ribbon that would hang down our back. And, who knows? I might even paint my stubby, chewed-to-the-nub fingernails for the occasion.

Sunday School during Easter was spent making crosses from pop-sicle sticks and yarn. And writing John 3:16 in glue on construction paper, then sprinkling glitter on it, to proudly display in the Church's main hall. And after church, the obligatory eggs-tra-ordinary egg hunt. A perfect Easter indeed. With all the trimmings a little girl could possibly want except...

But I never did get a blue (or pink, or orange, or green) chick for Easter.

A local grocery store sold colored baby chicks in a pen with heat lamps during the Easter season. They had been dyed different colors and we'd all have our favorite one picked out. All the kids begged their parents for a blue (or pink, or orange, or green) chick at Easter. But I never knew anyone who actually got one. Animal rights activists may take a dim view of dyed chicks nowadays.

I recently ran across one of those old Easter photos while cleaning out my grandmother's things. Probably one of the last ones that featured us in parent-bought Easter finery. Robin and I were posed for posterity in my grandmother's yard and were about 14 and 16 years old at the time. Smirks firmly planted across our smart-aleck faces tell you this is the last time you'll get dresses on these two tomboy teens who'd rather be in our blue jeans fielding grounders.

Another Time, Another Place

I had Sesame Chicken last night and began thinking about the first time I ate sesame seeds on something. I was in Asheville, NC, with the infamous Frank Brown and we were riding around in his ancient Volvo. With a fair amount of munchies we stopped at Moritz Bakery on Merrimon Avenue and got some freshly baked Sesame Cookies. They were the best things I'd ever put into my mouth.

They were paper thin, crisp and buttery and we bought a whole bag of them. I don't know if it was the atmosphere or the herb (safe bet), but those were absolutely the best cookies I'd ever tasted.

Funny how that is. Or maybe you go see a movie and are so enthralled with it and years later you have the opportunity to view it again and discover it's not so good afterall.

Anyway I've had Sesame Cookies since then and they're not nearly as good as the ones Frank and I had in another time, another place.

In death, Robin left behind a floral treasure hunt for us. She had recently planted fall bulbs in the yard. Outdoors, bulbs soon peeked up from tender soil as I patiently waited for their blooming show. What color will you be? How tall will you grow? And what variety will show up next?

This also happens indoors. Right beside a monster peace lily, a large, sturdy plant began showing signs of new bud growth. Each morning as I awoke I'd rush to see what may have transpired overnight. Finally the first flower started to unfold with a touch of bright red peeking out. A week later there are two full large red flowers. Huge. 8 inches across huge. They look somewhat tropical, but what in the world are they?

A trusty internet search reveals the mystery. They are Canna Lilies. I'd heard of Calla Lilies, but not Canna Lilies. They come in dwarf size and large size and in different colors. Ours is called the "President". You can see a good picture if you click here at Daves Garden, a super nice site with member participation.

Thanks, Dobber. I enjoy taking care of the flowers you lovingly planted and seeing what surprises you have in store for me. (For those who may not know, my sister and best friend passed away on Thanksgiving morning, 2005.)

When is the last time an attendant pumped your gasoline at the gas station?

That long, huh? Me, too. But I just came back from a place that happily pumps it for you. An elderly gentleman sauntered out to the car and asked me how much I wanted and when he was through said, "I'm thanking ya".

That'll certainly put a smile on your face.

(For my local readers, it's the Ray Lewis station and car lot on "G" Street.)

I just filled out my Yahoo brackets for the NCAA Basketball playoffs that start Thursday. Keeping in mind that we can make changes up until game day, my final four picks are:

DUKE

NORTH CAROLINA

BOSTON COLLEGE

UCLA

with Duke beating BOSTON COLLEGE 70-65 in the playoffs. I never even get close on these brackets, but it's fun to guess.

My sweet Mother is 83 years young and spry as ever. Do you think having a Bloody Mary each evening has anything to do with it? My great-grandmother on my father's side lived to be 107 and she had a small snifter of brandy each day.

I wonder if there's anything to having a toddy every day? In moderation, that is.

Yummmmmm! I'm just finishing up a nice slice of Pecan Pie. I haven't eaten that in some time. I wonder if Pecan Pie may be a southern thing, but it's probably nationally appreciated. We probably make more of them with the abundance of pecan trees just as I imagine that in Kane's neck of the woods, a Key Lime Pie is more popular.

I do believe I'm in the midst of a sugar attack. Nurse? A molasses IV....stat!!