Good thing this is not one of those years when we have an early Easter and the kids are off school this week. It was barely in the 20s when I bundled up and left the house for my walk.
I was determined to go despite the dithering by Mother Nature as to this March weather.
The temps are up – the temps are down. One day it’s warm, and the next day you freeze. Wednesday will be in the 60s with rain most of the day.
The old gal is indecisive to say the least.
I am not a feminist by any means, but I have to admit that I usually take exception when someone utters the phrase “it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind” … it doesn’t seem complimentary in the least to women.
But I have to admit … Mother Nature has been pretty ambivalent this past few weeks.
On this frosty morn, as I trekked to the border of Wyandotte and Lincoln Park, I noticed the mishmash of holiday décor in the neighborhoods where I walked. There were still some Halloween pumpkins and Thanksgiving turkeys adorning the landscape and lots of Christmas decorations as well. Hearts and cupids for Valentine’s Day and leprechauns for St. Pat’s Day are still hanging around, but very few Easter decorations.
I don’t have my Easter wreath up either because it is so cold that the big fuzzy bunny sticks to the screen door and his flattened face is not such a good look to the outside world.
The cold air made me hungry despite my over-sized portion of oatmeal I had this morning. After I returned home, while eating a container of Greek yogurt, I was wishing I was eating something warm and tasty instead. It got me thinking and soon I was remembering hot cross buns from my past – way back in Canada. After we moved here to the States, every Easter my mom would bemoan that the American hot cross buns lacked the oomph of their Canadian counterparts, like a liberal saturation of allspice, nutmeg and cinnamon as well as a bounty of candied fruit. In our family, we always gave up sweets for Lent, so that when we were allowed to indulge our sweet tooth once again on Good Friday, hopefully the treat we had long hankered for, lived up to its expectations. Good Friday was always the entire day off from work and school so our breakfast treat was oven-toasted hot cross buns, slathered with sweet butter and topped with English sweet orange marmalade. The smell wafted through the house and somehow those long weeks of going without sweets were quickly forgotten.