As I write these words at my home in a small Irish town, the shop down the street from me is offering Easter eggs for sale at the price of €2.99, or about twenty minutes work at the legal minimum wage. These milk chocolate eggs are presented in a glossy printed cardboard box, and the egg itself is wrapped in brightly coloured tinfoil. Inside the hollow shell of the egg is even more chocolate, this time in a bar wrapped with colourful paper and more bright tinfoil. The chocolate bar itself contains a sweet, creamy centre that melts delightfully on the tongue.
It’s far too easy to take such a product for granted. Within a mile of my house dozens of shops offer a wide variety of similar chocolate eggs at similar prices, and by Easter there will be few homes in the town where at least one of them hasn’t been eaten. These spring treats are simply the background to the changing seasons, along with the bluebells and the lengthening evenings. Yet each one of them is a miracle. Continue reading “An Easter Market Miracle”