Yesterday I described some of the routine of Easter as I was growing up. Something else is drilled into my memory...the smells.
The title of this blog refers back to growing up on the farm. We weren't "farmers" in the formal sense of the word. My dad had a regular job in town. My parents, though, knew they had to stretch their income to feed and care for themselves, four kids, grandparents that needed help. And others who crossed our paths.
It was my mom who knew how to work that farm. The little acre and a half was about an acre of orchard at the beginning. Apples of different varieties, various types of peaches, at least two kinds of plums, a few pears, occasional apricots (if the spring freeze didn't kill them) and crabapples. Oh, my!
The year they bought the land, mom helped pick and sell the fruit. The bounty was such that they paid for the land in one summer of fruit sales.
Now, let your imagination run with me for a minute. Easter is always near the first day of Spring, right? In our location, that meant that Easter often included a wide array of fruit trees in full bloom.
Inhale. Remember. Listen to the bees buzzing in the warm afternoon air.
That's what Easter smelled like to me.
What did your Easter (or Passover) smell like?