Like most of our social life since the onset of the coronavirus pandemic, this Easter will be spent at home. On our keisters.
Granted, around the first two weeks of April, we’re normally in Florida on our annual spring visit to Lauderdale-by-the-Sea with friends.
It’s a fun trip, albeit rather late in the season, which annoys me to no end because it’s starting to get nice here in Michigan, and we’ve already spent a month in the sun as snowbirds.
The struggle is real. But I tend to get over it quickly.
When we call family and friends to wish them a Happy Easter, the conversation generally drifts to the inevitable: “How’s your weather?”
My response: “Snow? Jeez, sorry about that. Spring is just around the corner, they say. Yes, I know it’s technically spring. Happy Easter. Enjoy your ham.”
And then we go back to our beach chairs and decide where to go for dinner.
This year, reservations will be made in our kitchen, which offers a fully stocked fridge, open bar and social distancing for two.
Thank goodness for the frozen turkey breast we bought awhile back when we thought sometime in the future we might make a pretend Thanksgiving dinner. The faux future is now.
We have all of the trimmings: cranberry sauce (canned and jellied, thank you), sweet potatoes, Stove Top stuffing (because Rebecca likes it), green beans, mashed potatoes and Martha White’s corn muffins (of course!).
There are nine muffin packets left. Don’t judge me.
Speaking of that, this Sunday on April 12, Christians will celebrate Easter, the day on which the resurrection of Jesus is said to have occurred. The New Testament says this took place on the third day after his burial following crucifixion by the Romans at Calvary around 30 AD.
Easter always falls on the first Sunday after the first full moon following the spring equinox. So, in case you’re planning ahead (seems kind of silly now, doesn’t it?), Easter will be celebrated on April 4 in 2021.
In Italy, Buona Pasqua means Happy Easter. I can’t help thinking about my relatives over there and all they have been through the past several months with the spread of the coronavirus. As of April 8, there were more than 139,000 cases in Italy with nearly 18,000 deaths. But the number of daily fatalities is finally starting to decrease.
Spring arrived on March 19 this year, earlier than it has in more than a century. The vernal equinox: new life, rebirth, dormant plants and trees all slowly returning to life. I love this time of year, except for the allergies.
Legend has it that you can balance a raw egg on its end during this change from winter to spring thanks to the Earth’s position relative to the sun.
Something about the gravitational pull being equalized making it less likely for an egg to fall over. The length of the day and night on the first day of spring are exactly the same.
In the March 19, 1945, edition, Life Magazine wrote about Chinese scientists who stood eggs on end:
“The legend goes like this: One day each year – like the American Thanksgiving – and at a certain hour, winter goes and spring comes … For an hour before and an hour after the season’s change, eggs will stand on end.”
But is it really true? The answer is no. It’s a bunch of bull pucky.
Standing an egg on its end is something just about anyone can do any day of the week. You just need the right egg, practice and a lot of patience.
In 1967, my mother gave me a beautiful Ukrainian egg. It was perfectly shaped with delicate yellow and white lines and stars forming a design on a solid green background.
I was 7 and remember liking the egg but hoping for a more traditional Easter basket filled with jelly beans and white chocolate bunnies. (Yes, it was white chocolate. Hives.) I found one later that day, hidden in the dryer.
I still have that egg.
This year, since we’re quarantined at home and not vacationing in Florida, we put out some Easter decorations. The egg is sitting on the kitchen counter for just the two of us to see.
If you hold the 53-year-old egg carefully and give it a gentle shake, you can feel the petrified yolk inside move against the delicate inner wall.
As a 7-year-old kid, I could never have imagined this egg would still be around more than 50 years later.
Frankly, I have no idea if it will stand on its end. I’m not risking it.
Can you imagine what it smells like inside? Yuck.
Stay well. Stay safe. Stay home. Happy Easter.
