We had a nice Easter this year. I've always secretly wanted to be Jewish though. Sarah is a common Jewish name, after all. So this holiest of christian holiday is dampened by my lust for Sedars and reading from the Torah. Guilt ensues when I arrive at my parents and not only has my mother planned a beautiful lamb supper but she's also made a little easter basket with candy, and dyed eggs (I'm 31). Though those dyed eggs made great lunch for our family chain saw session at Worlds End the next day. Eric had grand plans of having a chain-saw free farm but 7 hours with his felling axe last week resulted in little more than sore muscles; the downed tree still hanging precariously in front of our tractor path. We called my dad, the master of all things relating to wood and demolition. The whole task was completed in a little over an hour on Monday, leaving time for Eric to help me dig homes for my Pieris Japonica bushes (!) and a few Cameo Quince (!!). I ran into Emily at an event last night and her eyes lit up as she made the snipping motion with her fingers. To all my cutter friends: the farm is as much yours as it is mine, I'll need visitors plenty and often. I'm so afraid of being lonely and isolated when we move there in May. But for now, one day at a time.