spring traditions and new-ditions

Here are your waters and your watering place.
Drink and be whole again beyond confusion.
- Robert Frost

Its the little things.
Like finding a chocolate bar hidden in your underwear drawer Easter morning.

Like hearing that mom and Maple (my parent's dog) continued the tradition of successfully hunting all of the eggs that my dad - ahem, the Easter Bunny-- had hidden for them.

Liking calling my grandma to hear about how, each year, my grandpa finds new places to bury daffodil bulbs that burst with unexpected spring cheer. My dad does the same thing; now I know where that habit comes from.
"He just hates to see all the bulbs go to waste," Grandma explained.

Like the sunny drive to Port Townsend to have breakfast and to try out the town's Unitarian church service. The church service was quite special, it was held in a month-old chapel full of windows and beautiful artwork that had been designed and built solely by the hands of volunteering members. The sermon discussed a Robert Frost poem entitled, "Directive" --one that I'd never read before. We left with words to ponder and friendly faces to remember.

Like an afternoon of dying hard-boiled eggs and heading off to the forest to harvest more spring nettles and minor's lettuce only to return to find (or not find) that those eggs had been hidden around the house by my awesome partner, who had stayed behind to prepare a delicious lentil-nutloaf for our little impromptu Easter potluck.

Like a gathering of friends and new faces in the name of good food, community, and the newness of spring. I would be remiss not to mention some highlights of the potluck feast:

- Lentil Nutloaf
- Betty's Potato Salad
- Creme of Nettle Soup
- Corn Bread with honey butter
- Pineapple Souffle
- Quinoa and Kale Saute

So, Spring, I thank you for the sweetness that you bring; the opportunity to share old traditions and create new moments in this life of constant renewal...and for a reason to draw on eggs with crayons and dip them in brilliant colors.