Every year it goes like this: I prep eggs. I go to the trouble of buying white eggs (this is more difficult around here than you would think) and I make a point of blowing out their insides instead of cracking them open into two glowy saw-edged hemispheres. This results in spattery yellow-on-clear half-scrambled eggs instead of the round golden blobs I usually get to admire, but I’m okay with the sacrifice this one time of the year: spring.
Spring arrives in March and we celebrate by decorating with eggs decorated from years past, with a small bunny egg holder that looks at me with a soft despairing glower as his little attached egg-cups sit empty. I pile empty eggs near the sink to dry as morning after morning we add a few more.
A few break. But that’s okay. I have more from last year and when I get to a dozen, we’re going to dye them.
Geeklet says, “Not now. Can’t we do it later?” And I guess I always have other things to do too.
I have a pile of onion skins that I’ve been saving since last year because I want to dye with them. I have a purple cabbage and a can of organic grape-juice concentrate in the freezer. I have a full jar of turmeric and jars of beet juice from a failed fermenting project (don’t feel bad–I have so much sauerkraut in the fridge that we put stuff on top of the jars that we won’t get to for months). I’m ready to dye.
So what keeps me from doing it? Even if G isn’t so into it, why don’t I?
But what if they’re ugly?
So here’s what we did last year: We painted the eggshells with acrylic paints. And they were awesome. They’re the ones we decorate with. And this year, I’ve sat down and drawn all over one of those beautiful white empty eggshells with sharpie marker. It’s not so bad, either. And maybe I’ll be the only one who decorates our eggs this year. Ah, well. If that’s the case, then I’ll be the one to say whether they are ugly or not. And I’ll be the one to smash them with a satisfying ker-runch, and add them to the compost, where the worms won’t say, “Not now. Can’t we do it later?” The worms more often than not will say, “Yum.”