At this writing, Easter Sunday is just the blink of an eye away, and I’m starting to think about an Easter egg hunt here at Pipi’s Pasture. Since Lyle and I moved here over twenty years ago, just about every Easter (or a date close to Easter) could find some or all of our sons’ families here to take part in an Easter egg hunt.

Sometimes I have to look at Easter family photos to remind myself how the years have flown by. Our grandchildren were young in the early years, and amazingly they have grown up — already — and three of them have children of their own, my great-grandchildren.

There have been other changes, too. In the earlier years, our sons and their families lived fairly close so that they were able to come to Pipi’s Pasture at Easter. Now son Jamie and family have moved to Alaska, and of course, sadly, we have lost Lyle.

The Easter egg hunt goes on, though. One thing has always been true: the date for the celebration is often not on Easter and actually may have been changed more than once.

The biggest factor is the weather, but family availability also plays a part. So I have already started talking about plans with son Jody and family.

Easter 2025 is in the middle of April so the ground may be bare then, but who knows? Searching for eggs and other treats in the hay and under feed tubs at the corral, in and around the many trees, in farm equipment, and the numerous other hiding places just isn’t fun if there’s snow around here at Pipi’s Pasture.

One thing is for sure, though; at this lower elevation we’re more apt to be able to hunt eggs than at the elevation at the ranch where I grew up.

Memories about the weather take me back to childhood when I was growing up on the Morapos ranch. In the days before an April Easter my siblings and I walked home from school on a road that might have had a few bare spots on it.

Emphasis on “might.”

We were hoping for an Easter that would allow us to hunt eggs outdoors.

I can remember a somewhat typical April afternoon before Easter Sunday. Mom had boiled up six dozen or more eggs that she had saved up, courtesy of our hens. As we colored the eggs, we kept our eyes on the sky.

The snow had melted off in spots in the yard. There were clouds in the sky, and we were hoping for the best. Maybe we could hunt eggs in the bare spots.

But guess what.

A storm came up during the night. Before we even had a chance to look outside that morning, we found eggs in our shoes, and we knew the other eggs were hidden in the house. There were very few years that we did have an outdoors egg hunt, but when we did, it was a delight.

Our Easter baskets were hidden in the grove of chokecherry, serviceberry and oak trees, perched on the big rocks that were surrounded by the trees.

It’s another Easter, and snowy or not, it will be filled with memories.