

We made pretty the eggs we would’ve boiled and eaten anyway. The week after easter we’d be all ‘dad, you ate the one i wanted to eat!!’ because we decorated it the prettiest so it was ours. It was incredibly rare the eggs didn’t get eaten. We also had hollowed out eggshells my grandmother painted that we’d put in a place of honor every year.
Polish! I never really thought about why she did it. That’s really neat! I’ll have to ask dad if that’s what inspired her to make them. We inherited them, and had a little stand, but she had a whole elaborate display I wish I could remember clearly.