The morning sky did have a bit of blue earlier, but it got overrun quickly by clouds. It is 48°. Henry is outside barking at a ghost. I used to check to see what he was barking at but mostly I found nothing. He is the dog who cried intruder. My house is quiet. Nala is upstairs on my bed taking her morning nap, but she did have her time in the spotlight. She stole a package of dog treats. I had seen the package in the yard and didn’t know what it was so I went to investigate. On the way, I picked up an empty dog food can, an empty cat food can and some unrecognizable trash. It is no wonder Nala needs a nap.

I have a few house chores and I need to put more books in my little library. That’s it on my dance card. I’m going to spend the rest of the day reading and relaxing. I am only missing the bon bons.

Santa keeps lists. When I was little, if I did something my mother didn’t like, she threatened to tell Santa to put me on the naughty list. She kept me in thrall with that threat. Now that I’m older, much older, I have some questions. Where did naughty come from? I only heard it used around Christmas and in old children’s books. Good and bad would have been just fine. What about the poor Easter Bunny? Santa was incentive. We didn’t want to cross him. The Easter Bunny left baskets no matter how good or naughty we were. Granted, Santa’s gifts were far better, and how would the Easter Bunny carry a bike or a sled in his basket and was all that chocolate worth it? The biggest question is hotly debated. Why is a bunny bringing eggs?

The bunny always left us great Easter baskets. In every basket was always a chocolate bunny. The ears went first. Jelly beans were loose. They were the big beans. Every bean tasted the same. Yellow Peeps were a given as were small, round pieces of chocolate covered in decorative aluminum. Big, colored candy eggs were hard to bite. Their insides were white. Sometimes there was a stuffed bunny, always a bunny. Small toys like jacks and a Fl-back paddle were sometimes in the basket. In my Ghana Easter package, I got a Fli-Back. My friend Bill and I had nightly competitions to see who could go longer without the ball missing the paddle. We were great. I’m talking well over 100 then tragedy struck. The elastic broke. We tied it, but it never worked right again. We lamented the loss.

My candy peeps are open to the air, hardening. That’s the only way I liked them. They arrived in Ghana that way. I have no Easter plans. I didn’t buy new patent leather shoes or a pouffy dress. I’ll be casual and comfy.

What a surprise! This morning it was raining when I woke up. It has since stopped leaving behind only white clouds bright with hidden light. The air is still held in check by the humidity.

It is opening day at Fenway Park. The Sox have had a rocky start winning only one game, but at home they are difficult to beat. I used to go to Fenway when I was a kid. I sat in the bleaches, the cheap seats, at afternoon games. I remember my first night game. My friend’s sister worked for the Sox. We arrived for batting practice, and I remember walking through the concourse then standing at the fence behind the outfield. The field was lit so much it looked like daytime. I thought it was magical. I have been to see the Sox several times. I even saw them in Colorado. I’ve sat in seats all over the park including box seats. Now I’m watching the game on TV. I’m wearing my Red Sox uniform shirt, a long ago Christmas gift. I have hot dogs for lunch. I have popcorn. I’m ready. Go Sox!!

When I was a kid, around five or six, there was a whole neighborhood Easter egg hunt. There were regular dyed hard boiled eggs. There were surprise eggs with money and candy inside. There was a gold egg with the big prize inside. The eggs were hidden all round the field and the houses close to the field. I headed to the field. The grass was brown and not yet tall so hunting was easy. The dead tree in the back was a treasure trove of eggs. It was there I found the prize. I found the gold egg. I wanted to hold up the egg and scream, “I found it. I found it,” but I didn’t. I was afraid someone bigger would take it. I walked nonchalantly around holding my basket. The end of the hunt was announced by one of the parents. We stood in line waiting for our eggs to be tallied. We all wondered who had the gold egg. I said nothing. The dyed ones were the least valuable, worth only a penny or two. The other eggs had the prizes already inside. I presented my basket. The parent found the egg and held up for all to see. I was thrilled. I remember that whole day, but, of all things, I don’t remember the prize. The fun of it was the hunt.

I have no plans for Easter. I do have some dye for my eggs. It is, after all, tradition.