The genius who came up with Easter egg hunts did not live in Massachusetts, I'll bet. See these flowers?
That was about the extent of our flora the day before Easter. The rest of the hunt field looked more like this:
Frances still tried, trudging through snow and kiddos. (Chandler got left at home to nap.)
Frances didn't find much, but we ran into the Linfoots and Darby, bless her, gave Frances some eggs.
And then the kids consumed free ice cream and juice to cool off from the hunt.
What a weird tradition. Maybe next year will be a bit warmer and Chandler will have given up napping? Maybe...
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