As I write this column just before Easter, I’m thinking about Easters past with our boys.

We lived at Severance for some of their growing-up years. The snow was nearly always gone by that time, though I do remember one year in April.

I was teaching high school, and my husband Lyle and I attended the school’s junior-senior prom. It was windy and a storm was threatened, but when we returned home I changed out of my fancy clothes, and when the boys were asleep I snuck outdoors and hid the Easter eggs, thinking I’d get an early start on morning.

Surprise! It snowed a little bit, and the boys surely had an easy time finding the eggs the next morning. The snow was colored yellow, pink, green and blue everywhere I hid the eggs.

Each year before Easter, I saved eggs for the boys to color. I imagine they usually had six to seven dozen hardboiled eggs to dye. The Saturday before Easter, we covered the dining room table with towels and mixed up the dyes. Besides the “fizz” tablets, we also prepared containers of dye made with food coloring. It seemed like some of the colors were more vibrant with the food coloring.

The boys had fun writing names on the eggs with wax “pencils” and using the tattoo-like drawings (included with tablet kits) to decorate the colored eggs. Lyle and I took turns at coloring eggs, too, and when we were finished, the boys mixed colors together to make eggs with some “icky-looking” colors.

The eggs were placed in baskets or bowls and left out for the Easter bunny to hide. That was my job. Ahead of time, I put candies, gum, and even coins in little bags and tied them with pastel ribbon. I hung these on tree branches or set them in little nests. Of course there were Easter baskets, too, filled with marshmallow eggs, jelly beans, chocolate rabbits, coloring books and little toys.

I remember one morning when our son Jody’s dog Benji watched me hide everything. When the boys unhooked his chain that morning, he happily showed them the hiding places.

I will never forget watching the boys take everything out of their Easter baskets, fondle it, and put everything back. It was awhile before they ate many of the treats. In the afternoon, Lyle and the boys hid Easter eggs for one another and found them. I can still see Lyle with an Easter basket over his arm.

Memories are wonderful because nobody can take them from us.