|Bergamot & Rose Ostara marshmallows 2012|
I remember Easters past as a time of extreme activity and great anticipation. We would get new dresses, usually the first new clothing we'd get between the yearly mid-summer school clothes shopping, and new shoes. We'd dress up and climb into the car with the Easter baskets our godmother gave us, and then we'd drive 45 winding minutes into the hills to an old cabin on the edge of a creek and an old oak forest where we'd be greeted by all of our cousins, aunts, uncles, and our grandparents. The main room of the three-room cabin would be decked out for the holidays with two picnic tables set end-to-end literally groaning under the weight of the food that was brought or prepared there. Pies, bunny-shaped carrot cakes, ham, turkey, lamb, fresh green beans, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and lots of fresh spring vegetables. It was like Thanksgiving and Christmas rolled into one with everyone exchanging baskets, and more food in the room than most people eat in a month. I remember choking on dry boiled eggs, and drinking lots of sweet tea and Dr. Pepper. I remember eating too many chocolate malted eggs and getting sick on the floor of the cabin's tiny kitchen. I remember spoiling my new dress running through the briars and muddying my shoes slipping into the creek. I remember wasp stings and skinned knees and joyously smiling into the faces of people who are now long dead.