The Rascally Trio are determined to make life in our back garden a little more adventurous for our feathered friends. Consequently they have gathered up the most exciting looking sticks used for the Easter Trail and inserted
them into the bush which I call “the community centre” on account of the number of birds (mostly sparrows) which congregate there.
will be able to perch on the twigs,” the Trio explain, when I raise doubtful eyebrows, “and jump from one branch to another.” It will be good exercise, they are certain, this trio of active kids who (like the birds, but without wings) never,
ever stop flying from one end of the garden to the other. The poor bush looks most peculiar with its twiggy outcrop but then this morning, just as I am about to venture out to remove the sticks, our resident robin takes up position on the longest twig and
perches there, trilling triumphantly. Clearly the Rascally Trio know better than I do.
I had decided against a trail of sticks and stones, opting instead for a
number of clues to be solved, ending at the garage door behind which three Easter eggs lurked. My reasoning was that the moment the littl’uns arrived in the back garden they would immediately see the signs and want to follow the trial and devour the
chocolatey feast they would find at journey’s end - when their mamma, Middle of the Darling Daughters would want them to sit down with their lunch boxes and eat their sandwiches first. This delaying ruse worked - to an extent. While sitting at the garden
table investigating the contents of their lunch boxes, Faris’s sharp eyes managed to pick out at least four clues, which I had hidden (but clearly not well enough.) I told him he still had to solve the clues or might end up missing out on vital information
regarding the Final Reveal.
I had several activities planned - a hunt for eggs in the front garden, the trail in the back garden, the planting of this year’s
sunflower seeds and the traditional potato and spoon races. I also asked if the Trio might like to set a sticks and stones trail for their mother and me - which led, in turn, to the installation of play equipment for the sparrows and (more painfully) the acquisition
of a splinter for Tala, elder of the Twins by one important minute. Provided one is prepared to overlook that unfortunate event plus (i) a missing egg in the front garden, bringing the total to 17 rather than an easily divisible 18; (ii) sunflower seeds drowning
in compost having been watered rather too enthusiastically by the young gardeners; and (iii) most of my clues having been solved before the trail even started - then it was a most successful afternoon. Lilia won my own prize for solving what turned out to
be the most difficult clue - still waters run deep in my youngest granddaughter. We took turns wearing the Easter Bonnet which I had fashioned for the Giant Penguin - for some reason I am wearing it in most of the photos snapped by my daughter to record the
A short trip to the beach to play in Shark Park, followed by fish fingers and chips with an Easter cake as “pudding” and our lovely
afternoon drew to an inevitable close. We even managed to locate the missing egg in the front garden before the last goodbye.
We haven’t seen the Rascally
Trio since Christmas Eve - more than three long months; it’s even longer since we saw the (Not So Very Little) Welsh Boys. Coronavirus has such a lot to answer for, doesn’t it? Like so many grandparents, Mr B and I can’t help worrying that,
while our older grandchildren have years of shared adventures to keep us in their thoughts, our precious young’uns might forget us. Not, I hasten to say, that they will actually forget us (I’m sure I can count on their parents not to let that happen)
but I can’t help fearing that, because of our enforced absence, we might just cease over time to matter so much in their lives.
Each of the Trio has
made us an Easter card, all three beautifully decorated with Easter bunnies, chicks, rainbows, eggs, trees, suns and hearts. Inside her card, Tala has written stoutly: “I love you forever. I won’t forget you.”
The wisdom of a six year old. Bless her.