A rite of spring

EASTER IS not only the most holy of days to Christians but a portal to time travel that can take a person back to childhood.

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Passover has this power too, as do Hanukkah, Christmas, and Thanksgiving. These are the ritual-rich, family-centered days that call a person to gather with the clan, to eat what one has always eaten in celebration, and to be transported by the magic of memory.

It is a mighty force, this memory -- so strong that it can overrule logic. How else to explain the public's devotion to the saccharine mystique of marshmallow Peeps? They are here because they were there years ago (possibly forever), nestled in the fake grass of hidden baskets to delight young appetites.

Feeling young is, after all, the gift of these holiday journeys, which connect one with the houses in old neighborhoods, handmade lace table linens, the excitement of preparation, and the wisdom of people long gone.

''A simple straw hat with a black ribbon is always in style," said many a matriarch while spit-polishing the daughter's patent leather shoes and then inspecting the white gloves that would be worn with the spring coat.

This was not a raincoat but rather a very light wool in a pastel that was generally too warm, or too cold, for the day, and the days that came after. Try as one might to work it into the regular wardrobe, it always looked like ''the Easter coat."

''Two tablespoons of vinegar in the dye, and keep turning the egg as fast as you can with the spoon," commanded the patriarch supervising the coloring project that would put a few permanent splotches on the Formica table. The wax pen for writing names on the eggs often melted, and the dye pellet that was supposed to produce the fabulous speckled egg didn't quite live up to its advertising.

But perfection was not the point. Trying to make sense of the bunny-bearing-baskets myth was not the point. Neither was trying to construct coherence between bunny, fake fuzzy chicks, chocolate, jelly beans, and marshmallow, all wrapped in pink, purple, yellow, blue, or green cellophane hidden behind the couch.

And where do the outdoor trees festooned with colored eggs come in? Perhaps they evolved as an attempt to adapt winter holiday custom to the vernal equinox. Whatever -- they're a delight, and another connection with the past, for they remind one of the delicate art of egg blowing that grandparents and great-grandparents learned in the old country.

Easter egg hunts, egg rolls, Easter parades that get people out and talking and convinced it's spring no matter what the weather, sunrise services, the scent of lilies, and sense of renewal are all part of this day -- ever linked to days past and those yet to be.