Bringing in the May

It's not even 7 and I've already learned something. I knew that May Day was a celebration of the full-on appearance of spring. But apparently it was one of those pagan holidays that the Church didn't "baptize" (I suppose because Easter hits the springtime nut). So, because it wasn't a proper holiday with time off, in order to have their maypoles and their garlands and Maying whatnot, the people had to stay home from work to celebrate. And on May 1, 1890 some whacky socialist group in Paris (it's always the French) voted to hold a strike for the 8 hour work day (slackers), thus sealing this day for all time as a worker's holiday.

There are tin cans, which have been collecting over the last weeks, on the kitchen counter, full of herbs and what flowering things we have. The tulips are spent and the roses just starting to bud but there are blue rosemary flowers, pink & white weigelia and fluffy white blossoms from the rowan tree. These are all artfully arranged and waiting for The Child to finish her morning toilette so that she can deliver her May baskets to surrounding neighbors.

And I will spend this May morning baking little cakes for a lunchtime delivery to the volleyball girls because I heart them and finishing up a writing piece that's due today. (It's written but it needs to be trimmed and polished and yesterday, when I could have (should have) been doing this, I had a gigantic case of writer's block).

Happy Mayday! May your blossoms be fragrant and your work day of reasonable length, fairly compensated, with benefits.