The making of traditions

Hi everyone,easter bunny

 Apologies for not posting last week but life got in the way, and I had to head north and help with the my mother’s move to a rest home.  All done, but lots of emotion in such an occasion.

 This weekend is Easter and it’ll be a quiet one.   Traditionally we host an Easter brunch, but this year I’ve really left it too late.  However it got me thinking about traditions.  When we adopted our children from Russia many years ago one of the things we wanted to do as new parents was create our own family traditions, hence the Easter brunch with our close friends.

 Traditions I believe are really important as they give a sense of unity.  With that in mind I began to research the traditions of Easter.  Now I’m not necessarily talking the religious aspects, but things like Easter eggs, egg hunts, hot cross buns which our recent visitors from the USA hadn’t heard of.  So here goes.

 Firstly what I found to be interesting is that while we celebrate Easter as a Christian holiday, apparently some of the other aspects in fact pre-date Christianity. 

 The name Easter originates from Eostre an Anglo-Saxon Goddess of Spring, which if you live in the Northern Hemisphere works, but since I live way down near the bottom of the world is a bit wonky for us as we’re heading into autumn.  According to Factmonster.com a month corresponding to April had been named “Eostremonat,” or Eostre’s month.   This term then became Easter because.  Prior to that, the holiday had been called Pasach (Passover)

 In Medieval Europe eggs were forbidden during Lent which is the period before Easter.  But so the food wasn’t wasted, they were often preserved and then became the focal point of food after lent/during Easter, often used as an Easter gift for children and servants.  Because eggs were often viewed as signs of fertility, they were also used during their spring festivals.  Eggs were dyed, painted, and otherwise decorated, used in games –parents hiding them for children to find then roll down the hill. 

 The most famous egg roll takes place on the White House lawn every year.

 Orthodox Christians and in Greece, pain the eggs bright red to symbolize the blood of Christ. In Armenia hollow eggs were painted with pictures of Christ, the Virgin Mary, and other religious figures, while in German, green eggs are given as gifts on Holy Thursday, and hung hollow eggs on trees.

 In Poland and the Ukraine, eggs are often painted silver and gold.

 It is thought that the idea of the Easter Bunny originate in Germany, brought to America by immigrants to Pennsylvania, bringing with them the tale of an Easter hare who laid eggs for children to find.  Also they baked cakes for Easter in the shape of hares.

 The tradition of Easter cards originated in Victorian England when a stationer added a greeting to a drawing of a rabbit.

 Hot Cross Buns  are traditionally eaten on Good Friday, the cross symbolizing the crucifixion.  Although the first recorded use of hot cross buns wasn’t until 1733, they are believed to pre-date Christianity. 

Ancient Greeks may have marked cakes with a cross that is thought to have been connected with the goddess Esotre.

 In 1592 the London Clerk of Markets issued a decree forbidding the sale of hot cross buns and other spiced breads, except at burials, on Good Friday, or at Christmas. The punishment for transgressing the decree was forfeiture of the entire forbidden product to the poor.

 Sharing a hot cross bun with another person is supposed to ensure friendship throughout the coming year, particularly if “Half for you and half for me, Between us two shall goodwill be” is said at the time. Because there is a cross on the buns, some say they should be kissed before being eaten.    

Hot cross buns are also said to protect against shipwreck. If hung in the kitchen, they are said to protect against fires and ensure that all breads turn out perfectly. The hanging bun is replaced each year.

 Wishing you all a wonderful weekend, wherever you may be.

 Happy reading

Jane Beckenham

 PS – and just in case you’ve got time to put your feet up this long weekend, here’s an excerpt to read

HE’S THE ONE

Taylor prevaricated. “I should go home.”

“Do you want to?”

Did she?

“I’ll stay.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

Taylor wiped her tongue across her lips. Kiss-swollen lips. Very yummy.

“If you do that again, I’ll have to see if your beautiful mouth still tastes as good.”

“Oh, believe me, it does. It tastes of you.” She brushed the fall of her hair back from her face, knowing the sheet would fall from her breasts. It did, and inside, her tummy did a roll of anticipation.

“You could have been one of those artist’s models for Gauguin.”

Her eyes widened in mock-horror. “He paints nudes.”

Cade’s gaze slid down her bare length. “On second thought, cut that idea. I don’t fancy a bunch of pervs getting their rocks off looking at you.”

“And why not? You’re going to spoil a girl’s fun.”

“So you want a bunch of horny old men staring at you?”

“Ew, maybe not. Anyway, back to us being ensconced in here for hours.”

“Ensconced? Big word for this time of the day.”

“Exactly. It’s 3:30 in the afternoon. Shouldn’t you be out mowing the lawn or something?”

“No lawn.”

“What about fixing that heap of rust you call cars.”

“Rust!” Cade’s chest puffed out. “I’ll have you know they’re classics. Perfection in metal.”

“That may be, but it seems to me you’ve forgotten something. You did promise to show me your etchings.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You mean now?”

“Sure. No time like the present.” Cade lifted her from him and rolled off the bed. Standing in naked splendor, he simply took Taylor’s breath away. He was Adonis. Tanned, muscled and sculpted to perfection.

“Had enough time to get a good look, missy?”

“Oh, God.” Taylor yanked the sheet up over her head, every inch of her turning scarlet, even blushing to the roots of her hair. She’d been ogling, all right. How could she not? He was just so darn good to look at.

Cade tugged the sheet back a fraction. “It’s okay. It’s a compliment, really. I like you looking at me, and what I see in your eyes. Come on.” He threw her one of his shirts.

Taylor held it up. “I can’t wear this, it’s…not decent. I don’t have any clean underwear.”

Cade winked at her, and she began to blush all over again.

“Cade, you’re incorrigible.”

“That’s me,” he said proudly.

Taylor put one arm through the shirtsleeve. “See, it doesn’t cover anything.”

“Yeah, I know.” He wiggled his brows provocatively.

However, Cade did up the buttons, using his closeness to brush his fingertips over her already extended nipples. Then, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he led her down the stairs from the apartment and through the bar. It was eerily quiet, the sort of unsettling silence that settles over a place which is normally so full of life and laughter. Thankfully, for decency’s sake, the bar wasn’t opened yet and they were alone.

Out through a side exit, Cade walked in front of her and down a narrow path to an area at the back of the building. The air was late-afternoon cool, and goose bumps dotted her legs and arms. “I’ll freeze in just this shirt.”

“Don’t worry, I know a few ways to keep warm.”

“I’m sure you do,” she said pettily, though her body heated with the vivid imagery his answer inspired.

Cade gave her a wicked grin. “Glad we’re on the same wavelength.”

The backyard was dwarfed by a large shed of sorts that spanned its width, with a row of three garage roller doors overlooking a cobbled yard. Taylor spied the few tufts of grass struggling to grow between the paving stones.

“And you said you didn’t have any lawn,” she admonished.

Cade shrugged. “Well, I could always get down on my hands and knees and use nail scissors and manicure it to perfection.”

“That I’d like to see.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He brushed her lips with a fleeting kiss.

“Not fair,” Taylor whispered.

“Why?”

“Because you only leave me wanting more.”

“That’s the idea. Tempt and retreat.”

Cade drew a key from the pocket of his jeans and proceeded to roll up one of the shed doors to expose beauty in metal.

Taylor could see exactly what he meant. Four cars lined the length of the oversized garage. “Oh, Cade.” She stepped close to the Mustang and caressed its curves, but suddenly yanked her hand back and spun to face him. “Is it okay, to touch, I mean?”

“Of course. They’re cars. Not museum pieces.”

She turned back and walked the length of each one slowly, admiring their silent strength. Each had a gentle beauty about it. The chrome glistened, the paintwork was mirror perfect; all were restored to perfection.

“The Mustang, I know, is a ’64, but what year is the pickup?”

“A ’48. It’s been rodded to go faster. And that one,” Cade said pointing to its neighbor, “is a ’66 Ford Galaxy. The soft top is a Lincoln Convertible.”

“So you’re a purist then, an all-Ford man.”

“Yeah.” He grinned down at her. “Except that the pickup’s rodded. You sure know your cars, Taylor. I am impressed.”

Taylor walked the line of the cars a second time, hand trailing over each. They were all special in their own right, but in truth the pickup was probably her favorite because it had been the car Cade used for their first date.

First date. How cool did that sound?

“They’re beautiful. You’ve done a good job,” she said.

“Thank you.”

Cade stood so close that when she turned to face him, their bodies brushed. Heat zinged through every part of her, and his stare was nowhere near any of his cars.

Words failed her. Cade had that effect on her.

He leant forward, forcing her to arch backward, and she came in contact with hard metal. Cade closed in and rested an arm on either side of her.

“That shirt sure looks good on you,” he said.

“It’s…um too short,” she said, tugging at its hem self-consciously.

His gaze lowered to the top of her thighs. “Nope. Definitely the right length. I think you’re a bit too done up,” he said, flicking one button open. The shirt sides parted, outlining the full curve of her very aroused breasts. Her heart raced a frantic beat, and blood pounded in her veins so hard she was sure she could hear its journey.

Cade pulled back a fraction, eyeing her with a teasing glint in his desire-filled eyes. “Nope. Definitely still too uptight.” He flicked another button, and another.

Taylor’s breath hung in suspension, lips suddenly dry as any desert as Cade parted her shirtfront. His gaze flared.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. Then his mouth was on one nipple, sucking, teasing her as the curl of his tongue flicked the hard bud repeatedly.

“Cade?”

“Mm, baby, you taste good, just as I remember,” he said, leaving one pleasured bud for the other.

Taylor was in heaven and squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the world, wanting only to feel his touch. His hands lifted her easily, jolting her suddenly alert.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t want to show the world,” he rasped against her ear. He yanked the rear door of the Galaxy open. It was made for loving. Intimate. Private. The door closed behind them and, except for the thud of her heart as it hammered, the world went quiet.

Reclining across the back seat, Cade pulled her onto his lap. She went readily, feeling his erection pulse against her.

“Much better,” he said and began dotting kisses across her eyes, her face and finally her lips.

Things couldn’t be any better. A soft sigh escaped Taylor, and she gave in to the pleasure of it all.

Cade kissing her.

Cade loving her.

Absolutely perfect.

“Cade, where are you?”

Zane! Here.

Cade’s hands stilled their journey across her breasts, and he uttered a few choice curses. “Damn, why now?” He looked into Taylor’s eyes, silencing her question. “It’s my brother.” He put a finger against her well-kissed lips and lifted her from him. He turned away and slid toward the door, glancing back at her as he stepped out. “I’ll get rid of him.”

Taylor curled into the corner of the car, buttoning up Cade’s shirt with shaking fingers. Holding her breath, she clutched her hands to her chest. Her heartbeat was frantic, pounding as if her heart were going to explode.

Fancy being caught in the backseat of a car, of all places. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t some schoolgirl—okay, so she was still relatively inexperienced, but the back seat—what was she thinking?

Nothing.

Ain’t that the truth. Thinking had flown out the window the moment he’d touched her.

Sneaking across the seat, making sure she kept her head below the window line, Taylor listened to the brothers.

“What do you want, Zane?”

“Just dropping off these car parts from Harry Fontain.”

“Thanks, now goodbye.”

“What? No time for your brother?”

“Nope,” Cade bit out harshly.

“None?”

“That’s right.”

Taylor slid a fraction higher on the seat. Dressed only in his jeans, his bare back, shoulders broad and flexed, Cade stood with his back to her. But that wasn’t the only thing he wore. Scored across his beautiful back were other marks. Scratches. Ones she’d inflicted in the heat of passion when Cade loved her.

Heat scorched her cheeks as she eyed the red love-marks. She remembered the delicious pleasure he’d given her at that moment.

Bad girl!

It seemed, however, Zane wasn’t about to budge, and Taylor realized Zane knew exactly what was going on, because his gaze kept sliding over Cade’s shoulder toward the car.

Good Lord, she’d been caught bonking in the back seat. What was she, a tart?

“Go home to your dog, Zane. I’m sure I can hear it barking.”

“Tetchy, aren’t we?”

“Busy,” Cade shot back.

“Yeah, I can see.” Zane chuckled. He turned to leave and walked a few feet away. “See ya later, brother. Oh, and bye, Taylor.”

 

 

 

 

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