May Day for me was always
one of my favorite days. As children we
would pick wild flowers (sometimes know as weeds) make tiny bouquets and leave
them on our neighbors door step, ring the bell and then run like crazy. We’d hide
in the bushes and watch their joy as they found their tiny bouquet and knew
someone was thinking of them, which always brought us to giggles.
As an adult with children I
thought it would be fun to keep the tradition alive. I made baskets and
gathered friends with children who wanted to join me.
We’d get up early before
school, I’d make cinnamon rolls and fruit salad for breakfast. While the
kitchen table bussed with tiny voices laughing and eating while the mom’s would
put together the baskets.
The kitchen always smelled
heavenly a mix of flowers and cinnamon. When the kids were done eating, we’d
load up the wagon and start down the street.
Each child would take a
basket for a neighbor and off they’d go, they’d ring the door bell and dash
away hiding in the bushes and we’d all crouched down and watched their
reaction. Some would look for us, some would just smile.
What a fun morning it was as
we blanketed our neighborhood with sweet bouquets and smiles.
We continued this tradition
until the kids were in high school and their hours were too early for us to get
up and ring doorbells, even at that time we were all sad to end our sweet ritual.
