Just as it has every spring, the bowl of Pysanky eggs sits on the table, the first sign that Easter is coming up. Easter, which in our unchurched household full of little boys meant the ritual setting out of baskets full of hay, stolen from the cow in the lower barn. A note addressed to “E. Bunny” (along with a carrot) was propped up alongside, asking him to please bring them some chocolate eggs, signed “Bill, Ed, and Andy”.

We had all the fun after they were safely asleep, hiding bags of candy, one jelly bean and foil wrapped egg at a time. Wally was especially diabolical, carefully tucking a red jelly bean, for instance, into the folds of a rag ball of red cloth, a trick my father had taught him. (Dad’s favorite gambit had been balancing chocolate marshmallow eggs in the curves of my mother’s mahogany furniture).

Then he’d catch a cat and dip its paw in the wood ash that always collected in drifts in front of the stove and press it onto the note, a sure sign that E. Bunny had passed this way. A couple of years when the ground was bare, he’d go up in the woods and collect a handful of rabbit pellets and scatter them near the note to seal the deal. The boys were definitely impressed.

All this from the man whose only memory of Easter was waking up and excitedly spotting a colorful egg on his bedroom floor. Turned out to be a balled up sock. He never forgot.

Psyanky egg decorating came to our household some years after the boys had E. Bunny all figured out. We continued to hide candy eggs, and they happily hunted, but the magic had slipped away. And then we discovered Pysanky, an Eastern European tradition using melted beeswax, candle flame and kistkas, pen-like tools with tiny receptacles for the wax.

Here’s how it goes in our house. First, a few weeks before Easter, the jars of dye are assembled on the newspaper-covered kitchen table. It’s possible to keep them year after year, though some colors, like yellow go funky and have to be replaced. Then the candle stubs, kistkas and broken pieces of beeswax come out. Traditionally, whole fresh eggs are used in Pysanky decorating; supposedly they dry out over the years, but you never know when one is going to explode on a hot summer day, deep inside the cupboard where you stored it. Most people use blown out eggs, and there’s a cool little tool to do that.

Wally’s cousin, Jackie, when she lived on Islesboro, would cover her kitchen island with the whole set up for the month before Easter. Anyone who came by her house was invited to make an egg. Decorating eggs that involves candle flame, melted wax and permanent dyes attracts kids like crazy, and we often had half a dozen sitting around our table, engrossed in the intricacies of this ancient craft.

Wally never decorated an egg. “Not my thing,” he said, or would have said if I’d asked. Instead he was in and out, chopping wood or chipping ice off the steps or sitting in his chair, smoking his pipe, watching – what – basketball I guess, all the while keeping an eye on the crowded kitchen table of serious egg decorators. Easter rituals were as important to him as to me.

And now.

It’s all mine. The dreaded first yearly event. You know, first birthday, first anniversary, first summer, first Christmas. The first year after losing the half that shared every one of them with you. Those firsts are milestones of an awful sort, but one by one they fall into the past, and you’re still here.

Turns out, and I’m saying this just for today, some positives are emerging; tomorrow it could all fall apart, another feature of this crazy process. Because when you lose a spouse-partner-lover, a good part of you goes with him or her. I’m learning that the remaining half of the marriage, me in this case, changes, reinvents herself, grows into a different person in some respects. And that change is both painful and hopeful.

I’ve talked a lot about the painful part – and that’s not going away anytime soon – if ever. The positive part happened the first night I went to bed alone, and against all expectation, stretched out to all corners of our double bed and fell asleep. And actually slept for a couple of hours. Sleep time has increased to almost normal, and the luxury of having the whole bed to myself continues to please me.

Another part is time. Even adding in his usual chores, which I do now, there are still hours and hours to fill. I’ve always had more things I want to do than time, so this is beginning to feel more like a bonanza than dreadful. Dreadful was what it felt like just a couple of weeks ago; whatever do people do from lunchtime to bedtime? The hours that loomed felt like a void I could fall into and never emerge. Now whole days can pass and that chasm never opens up.

With no one but me to take into consideration I can visit for hours with a friend, take off for the day somewhere, eat when I feel like it, cook with anchovies or capers or curry or brussel sprouts, even liver. I can burn up every stick of wood in our shed, including the back row, the row he always saved for the end of winter, but is now so old it’s got bracket fungus growing on it. And if I run out of dry wood before this year runs out of winter, I’ll deal with it.

Turns out, having a relationship with another person, with a living person that is, takes a tremendous amount of time. Would I happily welcome him back? In a heartbeat. But since that’s not an option – feel your husband die as you hold him in your arms, and that’s not an option you even entertain. Maybe the very distance from that event, now that all signs of his illness and of his dying are out of the house, has changed him too, as I see him in my mind. I’m beginning to feel more comfortable with him – with the thought of him – as a continual presence in my heart. A friend sent this, and I don't know if she made it up or someone else did, but I appreciate it:

Every year for a long time now Julie Turkevich has organized a Pysanky egg decorating day in the Community Building. Next Saturday, April 8, 10 a.m. to 2 p.m., she invites the community to come by and decorate an egg or two. All ages are welcome, but, she says, since we use candles with open flames adult supervision is needed for younger children.
 There will also be egg-themed pages to color for those too young to manage the wax, etc. 

Please bring 
uncooked eggs, any color (blown or intact)
, a roll of paper towels (IMPORTANT!!) and candle stubs of 3" or longer, if you have any.

The 8th grade will be running a bottle drive the weekend of April 8th to raise funds for their class trip to Quebec City. Returnables should be bagged and put out on the curb no later than 9:00 a.m. for pickup.  Our thanks in advance to everyone that is able to help the 8th grade meet their goals by donating their bottles!

STEAM -- Science, Technology, Engineering, the Arts and Mathematics -- is a way of learning that encourages kids to solve concrete problems, working together and figuring out solutions as they go. K-2 teachers have been organizing STEAM activities for their students every couple of months; the grades are mixed together and work on these various projects throughout the morning.

In Mrs. McWilliams’ classroom the task was to build the highest tower they could with plastic cups, creating a design, working together, and measuring their tower.

In Mrs. Conover’s room the kids worked with Oxobots, tiny robots, figuring out code that would get them to cross the finish line. I’d never heard of Oxobots before; check them out if you haven’t!

Finally, in Mrs. Burns’ room, children found Sammy, a gummy worm, whose boat had capsized with his life jacket, a gummy lifesaver, underneath. Students, working in pairs and using only paper clips, had to get Sammy inside his sticky little life jacket.

Taylor Mudge and Jim Sady of Ducktrap River Hops Farm will present a free illustrated talk next Wednesday, April 5 at 7 p.m. at the Lincolnville Community Library.

 Taylor and Jim have been growing hops at the Lincolnville farm, located on Van Cycle Road, which is certified organic, for about six years. They will show photos and tell about the steps they took to get their operation started and will describe the many varieties of hops they now grow. They will also explain why they chose these varieties and discuss some of the challenges they’ve faced on the farm.

 According to Taylor, demand for locally grown hops and grains such as barley used in beer making has grown substantially with the rapid rise in recent years in the number of craft brewers in Maine. He said that while the number of hops growers has also increased, Ducktrap River Hops Farm is one of only a few that raises the crop organically. 

 The Mudge family moved to their first farm in Lincolnville in 1970. Taylor is founder of the State of Maine Cheese Company and currently serves as chairman of the board of the Maine Farmland Trust.

Jessica Day of Midcoast Music Together will offer the fourth in a series of free family music programs on Friday, April 7 at 11 a.m. at the Library. 

All families with children from newborn to age 5 are invited to come sing, dance, and explore musical instruments together. The series will continue on the first Friday of May and June. 

 Music and Reflection on the Season of Lent will be held at 4:00 p.m. at the United Christian Church.  This program, the final in the series, is entitled, "Wondrous Love" and features the Lincolnville Music Project Chamber Ensemble playing Shannon Elliott's arrangements of traditional Celtic music.  Pastor Susan Stonestreet will be the reader.  All are welcome. The church is handicapped accessible.  Free-will donation. For more information, call 785-3521.

“I have a batch of baby newborn squirrels that were abandoned. Is there anyone who would like to raise them?”

 That certainly appealed to me, though I resisted the urge. Fortunately there are cooler heads out there (though where are they when the subject is politics??), and Dr. Justin Blake pointed out that wildlife babies need to go to a licensed rehabilitator. That led to this post:

 “I would be happy to take the babies to the wildlife care center in Vassalboro. I spoke to them and they would be willing to take them in and raise them. Please let me know if we can meet somewhere so I can pick them up. Only licensed rehabs can take these babies.”

 Justin also posted: “Avian Haven in Palermo (Rt 3) often takes non-avian species to rehabilitate and release.”

 Don’t you love living in a place where a batch of baby squirrels takes front and center on the community board?

Want to learn how to pickle a wide range of garden produce, review your techniques if you’ve been doing this for years and learn new ways and see helpful gadgets? A pickling class, sponsored by the Lincolnville Business Group and Maine Extension Service,

 is planned for Saturday, June 3, at the Community Building. Cost is $20 and proceeds go towards scholarships for Lincolnville students. Sign up here.

 Questions? Email Jane Liedtke

2-3 pieces of bacon, chopped

Chopped garlic (I use alot)

Onions, big pieces

Red and green peppers, big pieces

Black beans …. canned would work fine —I use about 2 cups

Corn, about half as much as beans

Hot salsa — I use half a jar

 Fry the bacon, but not crisp

Add the garlic, onions and peppers and cook with the bacon

Add the beans and corn and salsa

Cook for awhile and add the bean liquid (from can or from soaking if you used dried beans) as needed to keep it soupy

 Serve over rice or these dumplings:

 3/4 C flour

1/4 C cornmeal

1 t baking powder

1/2 t salt

1/2 T sugar

3/4 C cream (I only had sour cream so I mixed that with a bit of milk about a cup in all)

Drop  by tablespoonsful onto simmering beans and cover. Cook for 12 - 15 minutes

Garnish with chopped parsley and cilantro

It’s crazy season for the birds; I hear them they’re singing their hearts out in every tree. Nancy Heald says there’re robins everywhere. I only seen a few in my neighborhood; nice to hear they’re flocking.