The further I get into the folders of pictures the more I encounter mislabeling. I wonder who sorted all those pictures in the first place. Oh, wait that was me. Oh well, I guess I wasn’t always paying full attention. My parents in the spring used to do an Easter Egg hunt on their front lawn. It wasn’t as big lawn when they moved back nearer to town as they had on the farm. The farm was 5 acres of woods, 5 acres of apple trees and gardens, and 5 acres of pasture.
The Kinser Pike house did have a nice front lawn. The eggs would be hidden, both plastic and real eggs as is the holiday tradition. Mom said for many years (they held the Easter Egg hunt at their house starting way back in 1991 for the first grandchild) that she would always end up mowing over an egg that was missed. There is something about one hard boiled egg, sitting in the sun for a couple of months that just sounds gross.
Imagine then, hitting it with a riding lawn mower and spewing the resulting decaying, stinky mess all over. It just had to smell wonderful. The price of hosting the Easter Egg hunt was running into Easter Eggs for a long time. Of course, dad used to hide plastic eggs with State Quarters and other coins. So hitting those with the mower would ding the blade. I guess even though coins don’t decay there is still an impact!