Day 182: Although Easter is not a holiday with any personal relevance, it brings with it a definite feeling of renewal in that it occurs at a time when spring bulbs are putting on their annual gala. My flower beds are not at peak daffodil time yet, but there are enough to delight any Easter bunny who happened to be looking for a place to hide his eggs. When I was a youngster, there was always a red one nestled in a cup of tulip leaves or a purple one tucked into place among the minarets of grape hyacinth. Daffodils nearly always concealed those dyed green or blue, camouflaged by the play of light and shadow filtering through the strappy foliage. It might be that the Easter bunny gave me early lessons in observation, for rather than putting eggs where I was sure to find them, he concealed them with great skill. Of course I was cautioned not to trample the flowers in their beds, so I would sit at the edge, studying the plants until a wink of improper colour caught my eye. Later, I learned that this way of observing at the environment is described as not 'looking for something,' but 'looking for something which shouldn't be there.' It is a system which has served me well. That said, I never saw the Easter bunny at his work, but one year I caught his minion in the act of hiding an egg in the bookcase headboard of my bed. Easter was never quite the same after that.
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