I adore May in Maine. May means the garden is lush and green and seeds are sprouting in the vegetable beds and containers are planted. May means working side by side with my children, learning the care and keeping of plants. May means windows are open, which means painting projects are completed faster. May is meals outside with my family, gathered at the picnic table or around the fire or at the beach, or simply coffee in the dappled morning sun, while I soak in the garden. May brings with it the rituals of putting out the flag, opening the outdoor shower and hanging laundry on the line. May means summer people return to our town and people mistaking our home for an inn. May is being called to the garden regularly, for herb cuttings, to mow (again), to bird or butterfly watch or to walk through it with neighbors. May means dandelions, red clover and tall grass as treats for the guinea pigs. May means the first scare-you-awake-lightning-and-thunderstorms
. May means sore muscles, tired bones and busy minds. May is a gift to the senses and to the spirit and as I said, I adore all May has to offer.
I sat here, having my morning coffee, watching the common yellow throats and red wing blackbirds, enveloped by our garden.
Waiting for my family to gather for breakfast.
I listened, loving their voices, their minds and their discussions.
Refreshing spaces, new projects begun and finished or still in progress.
Grateful he is mowing when I'm up on a ladder. Or that I can weed or mow when he's doing some construction. We take turns.
Loving all the blooms and lush, growing things.
The flag and the start to the summer season.
We went to see a summer movie and came home to have our supper of picnic foods by the fire, with S'mores for dessert, of course.
It's been a good, fruitful May and I am grateful.
And thank you, William, for your words, too.
“All furnished, all in arms; All plum'd like estridges that with the wind Bated like eagles having lately bathed; Glittering in golden coats like images; As full of spirit as the month of May And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer; Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.”
William Shakespeare, King Henry the Fourth, Part I (Vernon at IV, ii)
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