From Pipi’s Pasture: Columnist shares fond memories of Easter in Northwest Colorado | CraigDailyPress.com

From Pipi’s Pasture: Columnist shares fond memories of Easter in Northwest Colorado

Diane Prather/For Craig Press

When I was a kid growing up on the ranch, winter typically hung on for a long time. It was very seldom that my siblings and I could hunt eggs outside on Easter. We had a better chance of a dry Easter if it fell in late April, but even then, we were apt to have snow.

So, a week or so before Easter, we kids had our fingers crossed that there might be a few bare spots in the lawn where the Easter bunny could hide the eggs. I can remember some Saturday afternoons before Easter Sunday; as we dyed the eggs we kept our eyes on the sky. Even if skies were clear, the weather was apt to change by morning. We hunted more eggs indoors than out.

The years passed. Lyle and I married and had two sons, Jody and Jamie. When our children were young, we lived at Severance, between Greeley and Fort Collins. By March, spring had arrived. It wasn't unusual to have our garden tilled and even planted by St. Patrick's Day. There was usually a wet, heavy snow around the equinox, but I don't remember many Easters that weren't dry.

Our boys dyed lots and lots of eggs — maybe seven dozen or more. Just as it was barely light on Easter Sunday morning, I was outdoors, playing the role of Easter Bunny. We had a big yard with tall elm trees and a row of lilacs — lots of good hiding places for eggs. I went a little crazy, even making nests for eggs, candies and little stuffed chicks and bunnies.

I filled little plastic bags with goodies, tied the bags with ribbons and hooked the ribbons over the tree branches. Besides that, there were those dozens of eggs the boys had colored and Easter baskets filled with candies, chocolate bunnies, coloring books and crayons and other little toys.

One year, Benji, the dog, helped me hide eggs in the morning, and when the boys went outdoors to start the egg hunt, Benji led them to the hiding places.

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We always invited neighbors and other friends for an Easter dinner of ham and all the trimmings, and in the afternoon, Lyle hid eggs for the boys so they could have another hunt. I think the boys might have hidden eggs for Lyle, too, because we have a picture of him walking across the yard with a basket over his arm.

One thing is for sure — no matter whether it was Easter on the snowy ranch at Morapos or at Severance, where the grass was green, there are lots of wonderful memories of Easters past.