The Easter long weekend, the last bastion of summery days. The inevitable demise of daylight savings, the distinct chill in the air that heralds and ends each day that warns that the cruel bite of winter is not all that far away.
Relos both honourary and true coming from far and wide stream through the welcoming, open door, a tidal wave of tradition. Arms full of foodie fare for the feast, the contents of chilly bins clinking with alcoholic promise a day of fun and reconnection has begun.
A yard of flawless grass, that is oh so Eco-Lawn green. Luscious blades to party upon, pleasing to the eye, a treat for the toes. A canvas of perfection for Easter frivolities.
Puddings precariously perched atop the kitchen bench, the fridge already bursting at the seams. A pav slathered with chantilly cream, dotted with perfectly poised kiwifruit, Aunty’s ambrosia, chocolate lamingtons speckled with coconut and plates piled high with cinnamon oysters sandwiched with rich whipped cream. A sugary promise, a perfectly plausible excuse for the ankle biters to go from A to B via the kitchen to eye off the various delights.
After good-naturedly giving in to childish nagging, the Egg hunt has begun. The search for chocolatey delights encapsulated in colourful foil their hidden positions twinkling in the rapidly rising sun. Sandy the golden Labrador, the dog of three stomachs, a picture of misery the epitome of a wet Monday morning, locked securely away. With a sensitive proboscis forever on high alert a clear winner of hunts past.
The firing up of the Barbie, meaty treats a plenty accompanied by slug-like foil-wrapped corn cobs, and foil rocks that could only be potato, tables groaning with gorgeous salads, bread roll mountains with a pat of butter in between.
Sandy the lab, released from prison tail wag set to high, frolicking free amongst the organised chaos and the inevitable gorging of the delightful Easter feast.
Evening beckons the shadows getting tall. A temporary tent city forms in the backyard dotting the decadent green. A night of tall stories anticipated by the cousins and welcomed by the adults means their night will be ankle biter free.
The culmination of a day of steady drinking can most certainly be seen as adults in various states of wear take up residence around the brazier, flames from the roaring fire spiral into the darkening skies, sparks giving some semblance of festive cheer.
A BBQ morning after the day before brunch fry up signals that Easter is over for yet another year.
The evidence of self-inflicted woes so abundantly clear as the door is closed on the last of the stragglers.
A marvelous day was had by all creating memories that would most certainly last, atop a luxurious oh so green carpet of artificial grass.
Surely future Easter frivolities deserve the Eco-Lawn touch?