Hot cross buns always remind me of my Grandma Doddy, my Dad's mom. And then lead up to the memories of the easter egg hunts that my brother and I use to have with her and my Grandfather. The memory is so strong that I cannot at all pass them up when I see them. These beauties were fresh baked and even have the great little candied green and red cherries in them. Yummmm.
The funny thing about memory is that despite the fact that after my Grandmother passed and my Grandfather severed relationships with almost everyone in the family, which added to a mess of a group that was already messy, the thought of the hot cross buns, the thought of the easter egg hunt, really take over and leave the rest behind.
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