By Evangeline Davis
At my age, holidays have a way of softening the heart, but Easter has always held a special glow—especially now that my grandkids come down to visit me here in southwest Florida. The minute they tumble out of the car, sun‑kissed and buzzing with excitement, I’m reminded why I love living here. Easter in this part of Florida isn’t just a holiday; it’s a whole season of sunshine, sea breezes, and simple joys.
One of our favorite traditions is heading to the beach early in the morning for a seashell Easter egg hunt. Instead of plastic eggs, I scatter pastel‑painted shells in the dunes behind the quieter stretches of Bonita Beach. The kids dash around with their baskets while the pelicans glide overhead, and I get to watch their faces light up each time they find a shell I decorated the night before. The Gulf sparkles behind them, and I always think to myself: this is the kind of memory they’ll carry forever. (I sometimes also use plastic seashell-shaped “eggs” stuffed with candy, available online.)
Later in the day, once the sun climbs high, we cool off with a backyard water‑balloon “egg toss.” Down here, Easter is warm enough for shorts and sandals, so the kids don’t mind getting soaked. We laugh until our sides hurt, and even I join in—though my aim isn’t what it used to be. This is the perfect time to get the kids into their bathing suits so their clothes don’t get wet. The palm trees sway above us, and the air smells faintly of salt and hibiscus.
Another outdoor favorite is taking the kids to the farmers’ market in Naples or Fort Myers. Around Easter, the stands overflow with strawberries, citrus, and fresh flowers. The kids love choosing bright bouquets for the table, and I let each of them pick a treat—usually kettle corn or a fresh mango smoothie. We stroll slowly, listening to the musicians and chatting with the vendors who’ve come to recognize us over the years. Each of the kids has their favorite stand, too – the ice cream vendor who makes it from scratch, or the toy stand.
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Of course, the Florida heat eventually nudges us indoors, where the fun continues. One of our coziest traditions is baking coconut‑lime cupcakes together. The kids crack the eggs (with varying degrees of success), and I zest the limes from the little tree on my lanai. The whole house fills with a tropical sweetness that feels perfectly Floridian.
After baking, we settle at the dining table for Easter crafts. I keep a basket of supplies—felt, googly eyes, seashells, ribbon—so we can make everything from bunny puppets to shell‑covered picture frames. The grandkids love that they can take their creations home, and I love that each one becomes a tiny keepsake of our time together.
When the afternoon sun softens, we curl up in the living room for a storytelling hour. Sometimes we read Easter books, but more often the kids ask me to tell stories from “the old days”—how their mom used to hunt eggs in the backyard up north, or how I once burned an entire Easter ham. They giggle, I embellish, and the room fills with that warm, familiar feeling of family.
Our Easter here isn’t fancy. It’s sunshine, laughter, and the simple joy of being together. And every year, as the kids pack up to leave, I tuck these moments into my heart like treasures—bright as seashells, sweet as cupcakes, and just as timeless as the tide.
