As a child, the first signal of an approaching Easter was always the night that we’d get to dye eggs. The table would be set with glasses of brightly coloured water and a dozen, gleaming, hard boiled eggs would await each of us. We’d begin to dip and dunk the little white ovals, excitedly watching them transform before our very eyes. Our baskets would soon be filled with rainbow splashed, multi-hued masterpieces. Every year there was an egg we were proud of, an ugly egg that we hid behind the others, and at least one egg with a crack. Nestled in little woven baskets around the house, we would proudly leave our creations on display for the duration of the Easter season.
It’s been several years since I last decorated an egg, but now that I’ve got a little one of my own, it’s time to revive this time-honoured tradition. (Even if this year our baby Ali-gator doesn’t get to touch them.)
