Grandma's house was the perfect place to hide Easter eggs. My grandfather built the green and white bungalow with the wide front porch. Outdoors, ferns and pots of flowers provided nests for the eggs. Inside, hiding places abounded - built-in window seats and bookcases, desks, buffets. In those days, mid to late 40s, our entire family resided in Ontario, a small foothill town near Los Angeles. I had lots of cousins. We all loved Easter.
One of the grown-ups would hide the eggs - real eggs colored and decorated a week before the holiday (I don't think plastic eggs had been invented yet). Weeks later, my grandmother would detect a rotten odor and I'd ride my bike over to help her hunt for the source - rotten Easter eggs we'd hidden inside and never found.
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Comments: 8
Great article Ginger.