May Day

It does not surprise me that the three months of spring all lend themselves to girls' names. I personally know an April and several Junes and, of course, we all know many a May, albeit they're typically of an older generation. No one calls their child July or February. We go to months that give us hope, with flowers thrown in for color.

On May 1st, I always think of maypoles (not to be confused with May Poles) and flower baskets (and I always forget to pay the bills due now because who can think of such prosaic things as expenses when you have, well, May!

It is a beautiful first of the month! Yes, yes, breakfast in the sun room.






A hello (with a bread treat) to the cheepers (Oreo hangs back)...






And then a second (and I think final) trip to the Flower Factory...





...this time to pick up a handful of plants that will plug holes in some of my own flower fields. I'm mindful now as to what thrives and what struggles. I aim for an easy life for all living things here, at the farmette.


And then I load up the car, open the roof (Lilly girl has a wonderful sunroof) and take the rural road home, just to drop off the flowers. And I continue onto Snowdrop's home, where I find her freshly bathed and dressed in her summer duds.






Since there are again many pairs of hands this weekend to hold the little one, my time here is shorter than usual. But long enough for some gymnastics...






... and to witness a string of hearty chortles...






...and long enough for a walk. Just her and me this time (the others are out and about).






(Two pics from our walk: of another grandma plus daughter plus granddaughter, gingerly hugging the rocky shores of the small lake...






...and of two more colorful houses along our path. With a blooming tree out front.)






And of course, afterwards, in the late late afternoon, I return to my flower fields. With total joy.