My grandfather, the farmer, always planted his garden on Good Friday. That’s what you do Down South, with the belief that what goes in the ground on Good Friday won’t stay there, but will come alive and thrive. I always think about him on this day. I was at church for the noon Good Friday service. When I went it, it was your usual Michigan gray skies… When we came out, less than an hour later, the snowplows were running. After stopping at the gym, I came home early in the afternoon and decided that instead of planting a garden, I’d bring in a load of wood and set a fire in the hearth. (The photo is looking west from the front porch.) My daughter wants to dye eggs. I told her the best camouflage this Easter would be to leave the eggs white, but she insists we dye them so she can find them! So this evening I’ll dye eggs with her and help her figure out some science project involving magnets while catching bits of the Carolina game. Ya’ll have a wonderful Easter weekend. And, by the way, does anybody have an egg salad recipe to share?