L is for Lamb

Dispatch from Switzerland.  One week til Easter. Both here and across the border in France, every street intercsection and most every shop window is decorated with painted wood, paper mâché or plastic bunnies, chicks, eggs and lambs. Boulangerie windows are filled with chocolate rabbits wrapped in cellophane and pastel colors dominate the boutiques. But as one window features an image of a fleecy lamb, the charcuterie next door is promoting their deal on leg of lamb. With the hoof still attached.

Jesus was the lamb of god, the sacrifical lamb; I know this because one of the metal bands my sons used to like is called Lamb of God.  They were the opener for Metallica the time I escorted three middle school metal heads to the mosh pit, to set up our post-show rendezvous spot. I wasn't taken to Sunday school as a kid, so I've had to pick things up later, like while folding my sons' laundry pile of black metal band shirts. 

How do we leap from frolicking fuzzy cuteness to Easter dinner? Eggs represent rebirth, the bunny fertility and the leg of lamb - the sacrifice on special at the charcuterie -the edible essence of spring? 

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