This Saturday was the first beautiful day of the year in Portland.  The sky was blue like only a northwest sky can be.  Rays of sun beckoned to the rain-trodden, the winter weary to get outside.  So all the city folk piled in cars with picnic gear in tow.  Little ones with their easter baskets, moms with eggs to hide for an easter egg hunt, and dads with camera in hand.  And us, the “older kids,” with sunscreen, books, and guitars.  We drove over the river, through the woods, and across dirt roads to grandmother’s house.  Not my grandmother, but our friend Vicki’s mother and father, who opened their Christmas tree farm for an Easter weekend shindig.

When it was time for the Easter egg hunt, there were about 15 kids racing through the pear and apple orchard to find candy-filled eggs for their baskets.  There were at least that many adults photographing each child’s every move.  When the last egg was found, we gathered in the field behind the red barn for a picnic.  Had it been a more typical northwest day in April, we would have eaten quickly, bundled up in sweaters and probably huddled under shelter from the rain.  But not this day.  The sun beat down on the green grass below while a cool breeze kept everyone comfortable.  Vicki’s father took the little kids out on a tractor ride while the big kids basked in the sun and hiked through the woods on an adventure.  With Mount Hood gleaning white in the background, all I could do was let the sun shine on my face, content just to be.  We all left with pink cheeks and noses, grass stained knees, and hope renewed through God’s beautiful creation.