Putting up the Samhain lights yesterday, I found an egg that had lain undiscovered since our egg-hunt last spring Evenday.

Not to worry: it was a plastic egg. (For just this reason, we don't hide the real ones.) Orange plastic, in fact, with a black dragonfly embossed on it.

Interesting, that.

Rattling around inside, like the yolk of a dried-out old pysanka, was a chocolate-covered malted milk ball.

I ate it, of course. A little oxidized, maybe, but for a moment, I closed my eyes and savored the sweetness anyway.

The trees are wearing their autumn gold; the ground is carpeted in yellow. Samhain is coming.

But after Winter, Spring.

And Spring is sweet, whenever you find it.