family rituals: the eggs

In France last Easter, I looked desperately for white eggs, but everywhere they looked at me curiously. Pour colorier, I said.  In Migros grocery store a helpful woman understood, led me to the children's Easter crafts and proudly handed me white plastic eggs. I smiled in thanks, still smiling as I went to the egg aisle, picked up a carton of the brown ones, and headed home.

I don't know why I fretted over this. My grandma always used brown ones, and I thought they were so beautiful. Brown eggs wrapped in onion skins, boiled to dye. Gorgeous orangey-brown hues, perfect orbs holding great mystery.

And here were our French Easter eggs:

not too bad, eh?

I almost prefer these shades to the ones on our white eggs. This year, we had a dying-good-time with my sister and her little girl. Busy hands (and tiny feet!) at the table:

and the Easter egg dyed sky as we finished our eggs: