Easter Eggs

Easter is one of the most recognized Holy Days or Holidays throughout the world - be that if a person is religious or not. And with Easter comes the idea of hiding colored eggs for little children to search for before screaming in delight at the discovery of one of those elusive little treasures.

Hiding eggs or just sort of CREEPY?

An Easter egg is something to marvel about.when looked closely at with an artists eye. The decorative talent, the colors of paints but the question why would someone spend so much time illuminating an egg is always there.  It's that very thing - the why, the how, the when questions which are constantly driving a researcher.

Questions abound within the minds of explorers and thus J and L did a little of their own research on this subject.

Colored ostrich eggs of at least 60,000 years have been found in Africa. For what purpose is still being debated.

Talent from 60,000 years ago - okay recently but . . . 

Early Mesopotamia and Egyptian people looked upon eggs as being associated with birth and death. Five thousand years ago the Sumerians and Egyptians placed golden eggs within tombs as a reminder of the rebirth after death.

Okay - not an egg but a nice watch - it is gold though

Sumerian death golden egg - not a Rolex but cool anyway 

The idea for Christians to use painted or colored eggs during Easter came from a story - some say a myth at the time of the death of Jesus Christ. As Jesus was dying on the cross Mary, his mother supposedly brought a basket of eggs and laid them at the foot of the cross where her son was crucified. Drops of his blood spilled down staining the eggs red. The early Christians celebrated coloring eggs red after that as a memory of his sacrifice for humankind.

Red - the color of blood

Around 1610, and some researchers believe earlier, the Christian Church officially recognized the painted eggs as the sign of resurrection of Jesus Christ. From there the eggs became more and more decorated through the ages.

During Lent (the forty days prior to the resurrection of Jesus) many people fast as a show of penance. The idea is simple - if Jesus gave his life for all of us surely I can give up something meaningful to show my respect. But the forty days of giving up something can weigh on a person and many can not make it resurrection Sunday.

The term Mardi Gras actually refers to the last day before giving up rich and fatty foods. And what does one usually have related to rich and fatty foods (like cakes, sweets and every desert our doctors complain about us eating) - eggs. Chickens unfortunately do not fast from producing eggs. At the end of the forty days there are a lot of eggs laying around and should not be wasted.

I  like  Fat Tuesday - not saying I'm fat but you gotta love the beads

So, there is a great idea - color them, hide them, hunt them, and eat them. No sense in wasting eggs but they do have to be eaten quickly!

But there are still current traditions.

Even today in the country of Romania the practice of keeping gaily painted eggs within a household still stands. They, the eggs, will deter evil spirits from invading the abode and provide assurance of good luck.

We hate eggs - you're safe . . .  unless you have some good Salsa!

In the town of Haux in France on Easter Monday a huge omelet is served in the town square which feeds up to 1,000 people. Over forty-five hundred eggs are used - that's a lot of eggs!

They want hash browns too - you've gotta be kidding!

And of course in the good old U.S.A. there is the Easter egg roll on the south lawn of the White House. Rolling hard boiled eggs with a wooden spoon doesn't sound like fun but it is for the folks, mainly little ones, who partake in this annual tradition.

Drop the spoon and just run!!! There's a big bunny after you!

So the Easter Egg has been around a very long time in many traditions but the point is that it is an important aspect of a day respected world wide.

No matter the reason you and your family decorate the little creation from a chicken just enjoy the thought behind it - no matter what that thought would be.

Happy Easter from J and L.

California Citrus State Historic Park

 “You know,” Laureen said, “It would be nice to have some fresh orange juice for breakfast.”

I nodded. “And I know just the place.”

In a little over an hour, we were at the California Citrus State Historic Park, in Riverside.

One of the paths through a citrus grove at the park

“Stater Brothers would have worked; it was closer to home,” my thoughtful spouse remarked.

“Yes, but you wanted fresh oranges and here we are,” I replied.

Hundreds and hundreds of green-leafed trees budding with voluptuous oranges beckoned us to pick them. We would have our fill with the vitamin C fruits. 

The Ranger at the small toll gate smiled and told us we could not use drones over the vast fields of orange trees.

“No flying drones, got it,” I replied.

“Also, you can not pick any of the oranges in the park.”

“Isn’t this an orange park with a lot of oranges?” I asked.

“It is a state historical park, no picking of the fruit,” she said.

“Are the oranges historical?”

Both Laureen and the Ranger rolled their eyes at me. 

An orange tree park where a visitor can not imbibe on such a delicious snack as an orange seemed odd to me.

‘Welcome to San Onofre State Beach, where no swimming, boating, or fishing is allowed.’ 

‘Welcome to Heart Bar State Park, where no hiking or camping is allowed.’

Research indicated that under California Code Regulations, Title 14 (a) – no person shall willfully or negligently pick, dig up, cut, mutilate, destroy, injure, or do any other bad stuff to any tree, plant, or portion of. . . 

Okay, so we would not pick any fruit. It was still a beautiful location to spend an early morning walking through the groves and just taking in nature at its best.

I grew up in Riverside. Did not leave until my third decade on this revolving ball we call Earth. Return visits were many to visit family, but those visits became less and less frequent as family became smaller through the years.

Having spent a lot of time riding horses through the vastness of orange tree tracts with my school friend, Michael, this visit brought back great memories. Galloping here and there up and down Victoria Avenue throwing clods of dirt into the air was a lot of fun. Unless an errant orange tree branch would remove me from the saddle, which took the fun away rather quickly.

John R Beyer enjoying a respite at the citrus park

Oranges were a citrus gold rush for the early settlers in Riverside. In fact, it is this city beside the Santa Ana River which started the citrus bonanza in the state of California. 

In 1871, Eliza Tibbets had received three Brazilian navel orange trees from a friend of hers, William Saunders. Turned out, Saunders worked for the United States Department of Agriculture in Washington D.C., and he believed the citrus would grow well in the semi-arid climate for which Riverside is known.

His assumption was correct, and the trees took off like a wildfire. No, that would have destroyed them. Instead, the Brazilian orange trees grew very well and very rapidly.

It was rumored that Saunders was so thrilled, that he danced the Bumba Meu Boi while sipping on a Caipirinha at the same time.

Of the original three trees, two survived and were transplanted from Tibbet’s property to a safer location at Sam McCoy’s, who would watch over them a bit more carefully. A cow stomped on one of the three trees killing it while under Tibbet’s care.

Talk about freshly squeezed.

The two remaining survivors of the infamous cow stampede were transplanted again, one at the Mission Inn and the other at the intersection of Magnolia and Arlington avenues.

President Theodore Roosevelt paid homage to the tree at the Mission Inn during a visit to Riverside in 1903. It is rumored he plucked a big fat juicy orange and ate it right there on the flagstone patio.

That tree died in 1922, but the last of the three trees is still growing strong at the intersection of Magnolia and Arlington. Though there is a large fence around it to keep people from being tempted to eat the oranges which grow in bushels upon its branches.

Oranges were such a huge financial success that by 1882, of the more than a half million citrus trees in the state of California, half were in Riverside. With the vast improvement in refrigerated railroad cars during the 1880s, growers had the chance to transport the citrus eastward, and Riverside became the richest city, per capita, in the United States by 1895.

Within the visitor center at the California Citrus State Historic Park is a large museum which has a plethora of information from the beginning to the current day dealing with this business of citrus. There are models of packing houses, wooden crates, photographs of the original complexes, photographs of people who worked the groves – along with their personal stories, a detailed history of the orange industry, farm implements, and much more for the curious citrus history visitor.

The visitor center at the California Citrus State Historic Park

Just some of the farming equipment on display

One of a few pagodas in the park

Venue center at the California Citrus State Historic Park

Some of the history is not too kind for some of the folks residing and working in the area during the boom of the citrus industry. 

Before there was a Riverside County, the lands were the homes to the Native American tribes, Serrano, Luiseno, Cahuilla, Cupeno, and others. When the citrus industry started, many of these natives worked for the growers but due to government policies and racial prejudices the workforce declined causing harsh living conditions for the natives. In 1903, with the Sherman Indian Institute coming into existence in Riverside, a new work program allowed students to return working for the growers, which they did as late as the 1930s. Though the students were working, they were working in poor conditions and for very little pay. What seemed like a good idea at the time only provided cheap labor for a large money-making industry.

Chinese immigrants were employed when the Native American workforce dwindled, and by 1885 nearly eighty percent of the workers were Chinese. The Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 finally reached its ugly head in the Riverside area and suddenly the Chinese workers were no longer wanted. In came the Japanese immigrants who, by 1900, made up most of all workers in the groves. But again, local resentment of the Asian immigrants made their numbers fall to a low in 1920, when Hispanic immigrants moved in and took up the slack of workers.

Like all history, there is good and there is bad – thus there is a need to study it and the museum does a wonderful service explaining the importance and how dependent the industry was on all the various peoples who built such an agricultural phenomenon. 

Some of the stories a visitor will learn are heart breaking but at the same time those stories express tales of such strong-willed individuals. These folks toiled day in and day out to make America what it is today. They were incredible people.

It is always worth remembering and appreciating their personal sacrifices.

With well over two hundred acres of land to wander over, there is a lot to see, and it is not just oranges that grow within the park grounds. Nope, there are grapefruit, lemons, and avocados growing everywhere. And there are special types of citrus and other plants along the exterior walking paths which would pique the interest of any serious botanist.

There are also some plants with rather unusual and intriguing names: the Australian Finger Lime, the Sticky Monkey Flower, the Mulefat, the Royal Beard Tongue, and many more to marvel at during a leisurely stroll. Though, I’m not sure any should be touched, no matter what the California laws dictate about doing so, but with names like those, who knows what could happen.

I do recall Harry Potter and the rather poisonous Pomona Sprout’s Garden. Don’t want to be accidently turned into a newt, now do we?

An original growers abode

Laureen and I walked around enjoying the smell of citrus in the air. A long walk to a high hilled view of the park and the entire city of Riverside, with the San Gabriel Mountains to the north. We sat beneath beautiful pagodas. Marveled at how great it would be as a wedding venue or corporate event. Wandered through groves of citrus. The entire experience was relaxing.

Beautiful views of the mountains from the park

We ended at the Gage canal, named after Matthew Gage, who in 1885 started construction on a twelve-mile water canal bringing water to the groves which was completed in 1889.

A section of the Gage Canal

My friend, Michael started working at the Gage Canal Company while in high school. He climbed the corporate ladder, finally becoming a big mucky muck. I remember accompanying him, many times on horseback, riding through the groves when he did that or did this along the miles of canal – it was so quiet and serene out there among the trees. And I remember the smell of the smudge pots during cold winter nights.

I have told Laureen and my children of those memories. They smile and nod their heads – they are good like that. But when I visited the California Citrus State Historic Park, personal memories of my childhood in Riverside flooded back – and it was nice.

For further information - https://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=649

St. Patrick's Day

 Laureen waiting for St. Patty's Day on the Isle of the Green

Holidays are generally times for fun and frivolity - what a great word -  (noun) the trait of being frivolous; not serious or sensible.

Definitely frivolity - or just bad dancing

Not sure that is what we are going to discuss here about Saint Patrick's Day being a frivolous day to celebrate, but through the centuries it has turned to a day of green beer and shenanigans  - oh, that's another good one - (noun) mischief; prankishness.

Shenanigans - no doubt

No, this wonderfully festive holiday is to honor a saint of the Catholic Church.  A young lad, this is how many of these stories start, born in Britain during the Roman occupation of the fifth century who was kidnapped and brought to Ireland at the age of 16.

The lad, Maewyn Succat, who came from a successful family - his father was actually a Roman- British army officer - was kidnapped from Britain and transported to Ireland as a slave by the Picts.

The Picts may have been early Celts who wandered for a long while fighting various factions in the British Kingdoms but never were able to stage a stronghold for their tattooed warriors and were always on the march looking for gentler lands. It is believed they originated from Scotland.

A Pict warrior - scary!

With the presence of the Romans and later the Vikings, these homelands never really became a reality for the Picts who basically just wandered about from here to there - mainly there.

But we digress.

This is about Maewyn Succat who later became Patrick when he became a priest in the Catholic Church. After being kidnapped, he served as a shepherd for the one who enslaved him for six years. But then a miraculous thing happened, it usually does when one is destined to become a saint - can't have a regular thing happen since that wouldn't spark much of an interest from anyone actually. God appeared to Maewyn in either a voice or a dream - depends on the research - telling him that if he made his way to the coast of Ireland, a boat would take him to freedom. It should be noted that he had become closer to God as he tended the sheep and that is the reason for the visit from God.

After the vision, Patrick hot-footed it to the coast from County Mayo (where it is believed he had been held) and yes, a boat was waiting and off he sailed to freedom back to England and then he traveled on to France. He studied his faith under the guidance of St. Germain who was the bishop of Auxerre. After completing twelve years of training, Patrick - as was now called after accepting his vocation - knew that Ireland was where he was supposed to be to spread the word of his church. The pagans who had imprisoned him needed to hear the word of God and no matter the danger - an escaped slave risked bring killed on sight - Patrick headed back into hostile territory.

He had a mission to return to Ireland

One problem with the above was there were a lot of Catholics already residing in Ireland when Patrick returned but there were also more non-Christians, who were his main focus. Knowing the Irish as well as he did, Patrick realized the way to the hearts of these people wasn't discounting the way they worshiped but to incorporate traditions they already had. One example was the bonfire the locals used on Easter to honor the pagan gods with fire. Patrick used this to show a sun superimposed upon a cross thus giving the Irish their own special cross called the Celtic cross.

Celtic Cross as St. Patrick envisioned it

Patrick remained in Ireland for twenty years converting and obtaining fellow missionaries to follow in his footsteps. He gave gifts to the people, including nobility, but never accepted one in return. His whole purpose was spreading the word of God to the Irish and establishing dozens of monasteries within the boundaries of the island of Ireland.

On March 17, 461, in Saul, Downpatrick, Ireland, Patrick died, and thus the reason for the celebration of his life every March 17th.

He had written a book in his later years as an autobiography, explaining his life and the path he had chosen to travel. It is entitled Confessio. The title makes perfectly good sense considering he was a Catholic priest and the whole confession thing.

So, with the more secular holiday St. Patrick's Day has become - it was once only celebrated by Catholics - with shamrocks, leprechauns, Celtic fairies and the like it should be remembered that a real man with a real mission in life lived and died.

A Guinness - St. Patty would be proud

He had a dream from God to return to a place that had kept him a prisoner for the sole purpose of saving their souls. Yes, a play on words.

Anyway - Happy St. Patrick's Day from J and L!

After celebrating St. Patty's Day - a nap is needed sometimes