A favorite family activity
April 22
When I typed the word ‘egg’ into the Infallible Wikipedia, it returned Egg, Eggplant, Eggs as Food, Egg decorating in Slavic Culture, Egg Harbor Township in New Jersey, and Eggnog.
While most people likely give little thought to eggs, they have – over the past couple of months – become one of the most talked about things in the United States. I’ve seen posts on Facebook and other social media with people complaining about the egg shortages which have swept the country and, of course, the skyrocketing price of eggs. About a month ago, I even overheard someone asking a Costco employee when they would be getting eggs again (since they were out of eggs that Saturday afternoon).
“Monday morning at ten will be the next delivery.” Guess where I was at ten that Monday morning?
But the egg shortage didn’t hold my interest. Instead, it’s the tradition of dyeing eggs for Easter.
Narrowing my search, I typed in “Easter Eggs.” It returned the one I wanted and yet another set of egg related pages including Easter Eggs in media, an Easter Egg tree, and – I kid you not – an “Easter Egger” – a breed of chicken. Eggs are, it turns out, a very popular topic.
But back to the Easter Egg. The dyeing and decorating of them is a tradition which goes back nearly two thousand years, begun by early Christians in Nicaea around 325 A.D. According to the aforementioned Infallible Wikipedia:
“Eggs in Christianity carry a Trinitarian symbolism as shell, yolk, and albumen are three parts of one egg. According to many sources, the Christian custom of Easter eggs started among the early Christians of Mesopotamia, who stained them with red colouring ‘in memory of the blood of Christ, shed at His crucifixion’. The Christian Church officially adopted the custom, regarding the eggs as a symbol of the resurrection of Jesus, with the Roman Ritual, the first edition of which was published in 1610 but which has texts of much older date, containing among the Easter Blessings of Food, one for eggs, along with those for lamb, bread, and new produce.”
While every holiday has something to recommend it, I think the dyeing and hiding of Easter Eggs makes this holiday one of my favorites. There are home movies from when I’m three showing off my Easter eggs at the family home in Clarkston, Washington. And, again, at various ages after we moved to Yakima. For a few years, we would join our cousins at my grandparent’s cabin up at Rimrock Lake and one year my grandmother hid eight dozen eggs. Yes, that’s right. She hid 96 eggs out in the long grasses. Not all 96 were found. The next year Easter was in late March and as it was too cold to hide them outside, she squirreled the nearly 100 eggs into every nook and cranny of the 1000 square feet available. I’m thinking all eight of us grandchildren were sent upstairs to the sleeping loft while the six adults remained on the first level. Not all of those were found either. At least not until later that spring when the missing eggs started to smell according to family lore.
Alas, I grew up and quit dyeing Easter eggs. That was until I had kids of my own. And then it was full steam ahead! Every year I’d buy the PAAS egg tabs and soon had vinegar-based dyes in blue, green, yellow, red, orange, and purple. For a few hours I was transported back to my own childhood and the fun of coloring eggs; passing on the colorful tradition to my own children.
It was always fun to watch their brains at work. How many green ones? How many blue? How do you create one with every color on it? One year I think my son dyed all his eggs some shade of blue, while my daughter wanted the entire rainbow on every one of hers.
As a child, I was much more regimented, making sure that there were two of each color, just in a darker or lighter shade. My mother would indulge me over the weekend, and let me get my box of eggs out of the refrigerator and admire them. At least until Sunday afternoon on Easter day. It was then the first eggs would get peeled, soon to be incorporated into potato salad and devilled eggs. To this day I still love hard boiled eggs and whenever I eat them I am pulled back, for a moment, to my childhood Easters.
But back to the egg hunt. As an adult, I was always able to recall where I had hidden my children’s eggs… well, except for that time when I snuck outside before breakfast to nestle them among the flora only to discover during the course of the hunt forty-five minutes later that the fauna – particularly slugs – love hard boiled eggs too. Who knew?
The links:
barbaradevore.com 