“Everything is coming up roses’ at the rabbitpatch! The rose bushes are full of blossoms and it makes a stroll through the territory a grand event . Miss Sylvias’ irises are blooming too. They are so named, in her memory. Their watery blue color is striking and so cheerful, at the entrance of the drive way. Now all of the grass is green and the lilies are up and full of promises. New leaves adorn the old trees and quiver tenderly in the constant breeze.
The morning dawned silvery. Not long after a light shower fell. Tres had spent the night here, but he had stayed up pretty late with , Kyle and Christian, for someone who was smoking pork at six am. Christian, was up first and he made extra coffee, as Tres loves coffee as much as I do.
I decided, to take it easy today and just do what was required for housekeeping. Maybe I would cut the wild vines as they grow with great vigor. It would at least keep them at bay, for a bit. I have often wished vegetables grew with the same vitality as those hateful vines. I had laundry washing, by the time Tres and Kyle were up. We had a light breakfast and then Tres went out to inspect the car and the mower. That is my Tres. He reminds me so much of my daddy, who always walked in my house and found repairs needed somewhere. Once, when Jenny was little, she piped up and said “Granddaddy, you just want something to be broke!” She was maybe four, but had learned the circumstances, – and ( had not learned to use the word, Broken, instead.) I still chuckle, remembering.
Tres left around mid afternoon and so the holiday was officially over. I did collect some branches, that were strewn again, all over the place – and I did cut some vines. I packed another box and that was about it. I also spent some time in front of a window fan, which I declare is as pleasant, as can be. It is a worthwhile practice and I look forward to using fans each year.
This time of year, at school we are preparing for the folk dance program. The dances come from all over the world. This means that I am outside all day watching the children perform and dancing with them often. On the day of the program, the children will don clothing that reflects the country they have been studying. They will also prepare foods and display art from places like Colombia, South Africa and the Dominican Republic. These days, I sleep especially well, but few things are as lovely, as children dancing in the sunshine , in spring.
The fireflies are back! With such good weather, I am back in the habit of going out each night to bid the world good night – and so I have seen them twinkling, this past week. The first one of the season, flew very close to my face, and I was sure a star was falling on me! It was startling – but I laughed a good bit later, about it. A night or two later, another thing happened . . . I keep the windows up, this time of year, and I heard rustling sound just outside the window, by my beloved morning table. I ignored it, but it kept getting closer and closer. The boxer didn’t seem concerned, but I was. Surely the sounds were footsteps and were approaching the back door. It was just after twilight, and I couldn’t see a thing, so at last, I mustered the courage to go see. I stepped cautiously out, and “screamed like a banshee” for a young rabbit hopped onto the door step with me !
Now, the sweetest month, May has arrived, like a well loved friend, that was sorely missed. It is no wonder to me that the birthstone for May is the emerald. . .for in May, the fields and woodlands are all shades of green and even the most hesitant flora, will bloom in May. This is the month for picnics, if there ever was one, for pesky creatures, like mosquitoes are scarce for now- and so are the dreaded flies of summer. Once, I brought a baby home in May and how delighted I was to sit on a front porch swing with Tres when he was but days old. Maybe it is for that reason, that I am very partial to May.
Every May, I remember, that children were allowed to go barefoot, on May 1st, when I was growing up. But in those days, of long ago, things were different. I was richly blessed with a lot of loving adults, who indulged us with rich memories. We were children, but highly involved in the day to day tasks, meals and all aspects of life on that little farm. Looking back, I do not know how the grown folks did it all. I learned nursery rhymes, songs and Bible verses in the old barn, and in the garden and in the kitchen. There was also the faithful clothes line and the back porch, where beans were snapped or shelled. Stories were told and songs were sung. We wrote our abcs’ in the dirt, for the first available adult to check. . .and the World Book Encyclopedias, was a required reading.
Sometimes, however, a task just did not require the assistance of a child and so we were sent to play untethered . . mostly. To keep us safe, all sorts of notions were put in our heads. If we played in the ditch (by the road) we would surely get the “ditch itch” – and that is the way, we were kept out of the road. No one ever talked to me about the possibilities of snakes or black widows, being under the house . . for the devil himself, lived there! I can say truthfully, not one of us met our demise under any house. The well would swallow a child whole, so none of us drowned either. If you stayed out after dark, you were not only late for supper, but there was the chance, that a bat would make a nest in your hair-hence no one was late for supper. We kept our shoes on too, . . .to avoid the “Hong Kong” flu, which would kill you, . . . before the first of May.
In this way, we all managed to live to grow up. . .and tell about it.
Dear Diary, I love the gentle, fair time of May, when the wild becomes tender and “flowers appear on the earth.”