A Hippity Hop And You Don't Stop

Guess what? Turns out the Easter Bunny visits ski towns with 14" of powder on the mountain. Who knew?

There's Cella with her note...

...and Toe with his.

It was my first time arranging the sugary treats in the baskets as well as filling those plastic pop-apart eggs with more sugary treats as well as some good old-fashioned cash, and then hiding said eggs and I have to say it was really really fun. Here are the baskets, Marcella's is the pink one and Anthony's the blue:

Note the birds on top, the fluffy bunnies dangling from elastic nooses, the purple and green iridescent "grass", the glittery eggs and the centerpieces, 5" tall solid chocolate rabbits from Vermont. I was not there in the morning for the frenzied dismantling of the baskets, nor for the frenzied hunt for all 24 eggs that we scattered in ski boots, cactus plants and in the grill outside, but apparently it was a raging success. By the time I finished my tea and ambled down the alley 97% of the "grass" was strewn about the house, bacon was piling by the side of the stove and JC had actually managed to get the kids to wait to open the plastic eggs from the hunt. They then emptied, counted, divided and devoured.

We kept them occupied until Mom came in the Vanagon with Boyfriend's Kids to whisk them away to Southern California in a snowstorm!

The mountain was fantastic, Log Pile and West Drain perfect, the snow deep and soft and quiet and beautiful, and the stragglers who had not yet left for the tropics were whooping it up on the Real Last Day of the Season. I did a run with JC and it was really really fun, just cruising through the trees, gullies and bumps and traverses and secret powder stashes... before I descended to do this and shower and spend some blessed alone time, just me and my robe and a peanut butter sandwich. Life is Good.