When I learned that my son Jody and his entire family will be coming to Pipi’s Pasture for Easter, I was more than delighted.

Since we moved here all those years ago, we’ve always celebrated Easter out here — all except for the year that COVID hit. As I sit looking out through the dining room windows I remember that over the years the weather at Easter has been about the same as it is now — sometimes with a little snow on the ground, sometimes threatening to rain or snow, and, almost always, windy.

The family traditions surrounding the Easter holiday have always been about the same, too. Ahead of time, I have always stuffed plastic eggs with candies and coins and filled plastic bags with similar items, tying each closed with ribbon and leaving a loop at the top so that the bags could be hung from tree branches. Besides that, I filled Easter baskets or bags with more goodies, including toys for the kids.

On Easter morning, after feeding the cows, Lyle and I always divided up the Easter eggs and bags and hid them all around Pipi’s Pasture. Lyle usually took the front yard and shop area, and I headed for the backyard and corral. The cows looked up in interest from eating their hay, and cats followed us around, sometimes moving the eggs around with their paws. At last, we put all of the Easter baskets in the shop where the cats couldn’t get at them.

Finally everything was ready. That morning I had popped a ham in the oven, and while we waited for our family members to arrive, I finished making the potato salad, part of our Easter menu tradition. Before long our kids and grandkids showed up, having finished Easter egg hunts at their own homes. We hunted up bags and plastic buckets — whatever we could find — for holding the eggs and such and everybody was off around the property. Last stop was the shop where the grandkids found baskets and kites, for after Easter dinner, if the wind wasn’t too strong.

Everything will be pretty much the same this year, but there are some differences. For one thing, the grandchildren have grown up. The youngest is in his early 20s. His daughter, Luna, my great-grandchild, will be hunting eggs now. Son Jamie and his family, including two great-grandsons, live in Alaska, and we will be visiting them by phone.

The biggest and saddest difference of all is missing Lyle, who won’t be with me to hide Easter eggs and share in all the fun of finding eggs with the rest of the family. Years pass quickly — some things remain the same; others change.