Where I grew up, The Easter Tree was almost as important as The Christmas Tree. Well, almost. But I still can’t survive an Easter without one. My mom has carefully saved our homemade blown and died eggs over the years, so that when I go visit for Easter I’m sure to find some pretty old ugly eggs hanging on her flowering forsythia branches. “We should probably make some new eggs” we always say, but those old eggs we made in elementary school keep coming out again each year, just like those old homemade clay Christmas ornaments that are ugly, but too sentimental, to get rid of.
An Easter Tree is not a complicated affair. No lights, no tinsel, just flowering spring branches, adorned with colored blown-out eggs. The trick I learned before I can remember when was to hang the eggs from ribbons or string attached to a toothpick carefully inserted into the hole at the top of the hollow egg, so that the toothpick keeps the string from falling out. It makes me feel clever every time I do it, such a simple little trick.
It’s hard to think of any decoration more full of spring life and meaning than flowering forsythia, or quince, or dogwood, or cherry, or apple branches dangling with glowing colorful eggs. My Easter Tree is set up on my kitchen table right now, and I love the way the eggs gently wave on their strings in the breeze from the open kitchen window; swaying feminine harbingers of spring. I’d like to wrap my Easter Tree up in my arms and carry it with me everywhere I go this week.