Posted tagged ‘May Day’

“Clouds suit my mood just fine.”

May 1, 2015

Okay, I’m not liking this on again off again sunny day. Today is cloudy and chilly. Supposedly warm days are coming, but I have become a weather skeptic. When I can go outside wearing a short sleeve shirt, I’ll become a believer.

This morning I dragged myself out of bed at ten, yup ten o’clock. Fern and Gracie were still with me. As my mother used to say, “You must have needed the sleep.”

We’re going to the dump today, a day later than usual. We’re also going to buy cat food and dog treats and a treat for me, my favorite sandwich.

Some days I have absolutely nothing to talk about while other days my words runneth over. Today is a nothing to talk about day. It is May Day which means baskets of flowers and it’s also International Workers’ Day, take your pick, both have merit. I’m in a flowers sort of mood hoping they’ll brush away the clouds.

When I was a kid, I felt interminably stuck inside on any sunny, spring school day. My classroom was surrounded by tall windows and looking out of them was a form of torture. I could see what I couldn’t have. There I was using my fingers to count while outside all that sun was being wasted. Even worse was when the sunlight shined on my desk. I loved recess on those sunny days but recess always had the same ending: the officious nun rang the bell, and we dutifully and quietly lined up in twos by class to go back inside. I remember running all the way home so I could play just a bit longer in the sun before my mother called me in for dinner.

I’ll abide the clouds today. It’s not as if I have a choice. I suppose I could be a Pollyanna and build a castle in the clouds, but given my mood, that’s far too much imagination for me. I’m really tired of clouds.

“A flower blossoms for its own joy.”

May 1, 2014

Yesterday the rain started and last night it poured. I know this because I took Gracie to the front garden to eat the grass there. The rain was pelting my back, and I got soaked. Gracie had trash picked the garbage bag yesterday, and I caught her but not until after she had eaten something. Last night she started swallowing over and over as if she was going to be sick. She kept gagging as well. That was what made me think she must have eaten something or had something stuck in her throat. After the grass frenzy out front we went to bed. Within a half hour it started again, the swallowing. We got up, and I gave her spider plant fronds to eat. I turned on the TV and waited a while. She seemed better so we went back to bed. By this time, it was around 2 o’clock. She fell asleep but then it started again. We went back to the grass in the front. It wasn’t raining as hard. After a while, we came back in, and I decided to try to sleep with her on the couch. It was 4 o’clock when we fell asleep. I woke up around 7:30 because my legs were contorted to give Gracie room and they ached from the odd position. That’s when we went upstairs to bed. I slept until 11. Gracie seems okay. She is having her morning nap and ate two treats earlier. I’m exhausted.

Today is dump day which may perk Miss Gracie’s spirits. Rainy days make the both of us unenthusiastic about doing much. I love staying inside my cozy house with a good book and a fresh pot of coffee while I listen to the rain.

Today is May Day, a time for the May Pole strung with ribbons, a May queen with flowers in her hair and the Morris dancers. Today I will buy some flowers for the house to bring a bit of spring and to celebrate May Day.

I have taught the red spawn how to fly. It has moved to a smaller feeder and can’t see me because the deck rail hides its sight line. I slowly make my way stopping every few steps in case it hears me. I run the last few steps to the feeder, and the spawn has nowhere to go but down. It jumps off the feeder to the ground, almost a couple of stories down then runs up a tree, sits on a branch close to the deck and starts yapping at me with squeals and squeaks. Yesterday the spawn flew twice. I gave its landings an 8 and a 7.

“Home, the spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest”

May 1, 2012

Happy May Day!

I remember the May Day parades through the streets of Moscow. The news would show the marching  troops stepping in unison and missile after missile being hauled through the city, all meant as signs of Russia’s military might. I also remember May poles with brightly colored ribbons and flowers. I always preferred the flowers.

It’s raining. I’ve got music playing which helps dispel the darkness of the day. It’s cold at 47°. My heat went on this morning so the house must have been really cold. Gracie went out for only a minute. She is not a lover of rain. The birds were here earlier but have since disappeared. I suspect they’ve found shelter.

I know every sound my house makes. I know which floor boards creak. I know the sound of heat roaring into rooms through registers. Gracie’s dog door makes a crinkly sound, and I usually have to figure out if she’s coming or going. The ice cubes falling into the tray make a plunking sound. The other morning, though, it took me a moment to recognize the water flowing through the pipes. It was the outside irrigation system, a spring-summer thing, and I needed to jog my memory. Sometimes I hear a strange sound, and it takes a while to figure it out. I walk around the house trying to find it. One time it was a mouse in a cabinet. Another time it was a giant bug hitting the inside part of the screen. I let the bug out. The mouse got away.

In the summer, with the windows open, I recognize which dogs are barking and which kids are outside playing. I know whose lawn is being mowed. I hear car doors shutting, sometimes one but more often two, and I figure a neighbor is just leaving or just coming home. I recognize every neighbor’s car and wonder why a strange car goes down my street.

Home fills all my senses.

“The world’s favorite season is the spring. All things seem possible in May.”

May 1, 2011

Happy May Day! Wherever you are, I hope the sun is shining and the sky is blue in celebration of the day. Here is a bit chilly but still lovely. I think Miss Gracie and I will take a ride later. A pretty day ought never to be wasted.

I remember making a May Basket out of construction paper during art class. We’d decorate the sides with flowers using our crayons. I always drew daisies. Either that or every flower no matter the kind came out looking like a daisy. Art was never my strong point. We’d cut a handle and glue it to the sides. The glue was in bottles and had rubber stoppers cut at the top. My fingers always got so gluey that the paper stuck to them. I remember a red basket I carefully carried home for my mother. On the way I picked dandelions to fill the basket. I always had to hold my basket by the bottom as the handle was delicate and was barely held to the sides by the glue. I always knew my basket was a work of art.

When I was in Ghana, I made all my cards except for Christmas cards. Those I could buy. They had Ghanaian scenes and were hand painted by the art teacher. The cards I made for the other holidays were on white paper folded like little books. I’d cut pictures from magazines and glue them to the pages. The pictures were meaningful to the recipient and me. Little sayings were written on each page. My mother saved a Father’s Day card I had sent and gave it to me. It must have taken me hours to find exactly the right pictures. They too were glued. Luckily I had learned the gluing skill in elementary school.

My tulips have opened. Some are red; others are multi-colored. They highlight the garden. This morning I stood and surveyed the front yard as I do many mornings. The birds were singing, the sun was warm and the garden looked lovely. I would stayed a while more, but I knew my freshly brewed coffee was probably ready and I had my papers. It was time for Sunday rituals.


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