Hope you have an egg-ceptional, eggs-traordinary Easter!

I'm looking forward to celebrating Easter at my mom's tomorrow. Four generations of my family will join together to commemorate Easter as a time of new life and resurrection, replete with chocolate bunnies, jelly beans and lilies. I'm anticipating a wonderful dinner, served up with lots of love and laughter. Besides Mom, my brothers will be there, my sister-in-law, nephews, niece and her husband and three little ones, including 4 week old baby Emmalin, my husband, daughter and son-in-law and 6 month old granddaughter Nora. The only ones missing will be my son and his girlfriend, living far away in New York. I know I'm a lucky woman.

And so, dear readers, I wish you a most joyous Easter and a happy Spring!

PS - I should have a few new recipes to share next week, courtesy of tomorrow's feast!

And it's spring ...

I'm so glad spring is officially here. Even though it's been a warmer than normal March, I'm happy to see the end of winter. But it's Minnesota and we can still get snow. Pansies are one of the first spring flowers in these parts. They tolerate cool weather quite well, but it's still too cold for them. In honor of spring, I want to share one of my favorite spring poems, by one of my favorite poets, e.e. cummings. I actually tried writing poetry in the cummings' style, without caps and punctuation, when I first started writing many years ago. But it didn't work for me. I think there's only one man who can do it successfully! And by the way, mud-luscious is a wonderful word, isn't it???


in just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman

whistles far and wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it's
spring
and
the

goat-footed

balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee

e.e. cummings

Like Poetry at Dawn ...

Like poetry at dawn,
spring tip-toed in the back gate
this morning, all dewy fresh and sparkly,
and inch by inch the day turned golden.
In the garden a woodpecker
chiseled a tree, the poplars whispered
to the cottonwoods, the newly fertile earth
blushed under the sun's lusty gaze
and the lilacs reveled in an orgy of purple.