“Can go barefooted, Momma?” These were probably the very first words I said when we all jumped out of the cars on Highway 80 somewhere between Swainsboro and Adrian for the Easter egg hunt. Going barefooted was the first signal that spring had sprung, and it wouldn’t be long before it was bathing suit weather! Easter baskets were generally used year after year. Most of us didn’t get all the store-bought trinkets in our baskets every year. I would be lucky to get the green grass in mine with a few scattered jellybeans. I liked the black ones best. My Easter basket was used to gather the eggs, not for showing off.
Back then, permission wasn’t needed or asked for picnic’s or to cut down Christmas trees unless there was a good reason. Most everybody took to the woods and usually claimed the same spots year after year, since they had been proven to be just right for their family and there was no need to mess up a good thing.
There would be a passel of young’uns all decked out in their Easter finery and the most beautiful pastel-colored eggs that the grown-ups would hide in the sweet smelling, green grass of the woods in the forest of scrub oaks and pines. The eggs would be secretly hidden under fallen pine straw, fallen logs and branches, and in places that nobody would ever think to look. Of course, after a few years, we knew the drill and could pretty much nail it as to where the eggs would be hidden. But we feigned surprise really good. We always drug out the whole affair as long as we could, and it would usually always end with someone having some candy to share from their baskets or that had been carefully hidden along with the eggs. There weren’t many candy eggs. Just enough to drive us wild looking for them because they were smaller, and we couldn’t see them as well. I can taste those candy eggs now! Hard on the outside sometimes with a slightly bitter taste probably from the dye. But the inside was very sweet and chewy. Worth the fight to get them.
After the egg hunt, we had our picnic which usually consisted of Big Momma’s fried chicken, potato salad, the boiled eggs from the hunt, and pies or cakes. The kids always had to crack at least one egg on a cousin’s head. All the family women had pitched in and brought food, but Big Momma’s was the best to me. Chicken fried in lard just can’t be beat! And that potato salad with boiled eggs, green onions, and mayonnaise was the best! The most memorable part of those Egg hunts for me was gathering violets. I don’t ever remember an Easter egg hunt that I didn’t run around the area where we picnicked, and picked, one by one, the tiny little purple wood violets with a tiny yellow center but no leaves. Just a straggly long stem. I would pick them until I had a fist full. They had the sweetest smell. Aunt ‘Cile had some “toilet water” that had a violet fragrance. I always thought it was so special! It was a pale lavender color and smelled so good, it made me want to bathe in it!
Back to the going barefooted. If the day was warm, Momma would usually let me pull off my socks and white shoes and run through the cool grass as we played Hide and Seek or Mother May I. But if the weather was a cool day like we sometimes have in late March, the answer was the same. “You’ll catch a cold and get sick”! Funny thing is, Momma always seemed to know when Easter was going to be a cold day. She would make me a “Bolero” to wear with my Easter dress to keep me warm. She knew. She had this secret sense about a lot of things, including the weather. Mommas are like that.
