I was insistent that we have our Easter egg hunt in the orchard… because of this picture
Not quite 50 years ago, in that same exact spot, we hunted for Easter eggs — my brothers and sister and I. I don’t think we called it the orchard in those days because it was almost inconceivable that those saplings would actually grow into trees that would bear fruit.
My mother stood in the middle and watched us race around looking for eggs — real eggs, hardboiled and dyed, not plastic and filled with candy.
This year, we filled plastic eggs for Henry. Mary and Laurel hid them in the orchard and on the way to the orchard.
Some were placed high in the trees. Henry isn’t up to climbing yet, so his uncle “Fred” helped him reach them.
I know Easter isn’t about the eggs and the egg hunts, but there’s something deeply satisfying about so many generations doing the same activity on the same piece of land.