Did you know that May Day, or May 1st is called La Fête du Muguet in France? A festival of the lily-of-the-valley. The custom is to give a bunch of these dainty white bells to friends and family as a gesture of friendship and appreciation and with the hope of bringing luck to the recipient.
For you, from me. True, they're still buds, lily-of-the-valley buds.
Our May first is brilliant. A bit chilly, but appropriately so. It's only May 1st after all. A cool breeze is perfectly seasonal for the day.
Ed says that his favorite moment for the crab apple is when it's all white. So, right now.
Without doubt we are at the peak of beauty here, on the farmette. True, I may repeat this claim in July and maybe in October, but this year, I have to think May 1st will win. Take a look at my walk to corral the animals to their feeding stations this morning.
My schedule yesterday was wild. Today? Wild times two. First of all, Ed is to spend the day at the machining company, so he is up and out at the same time that I am up and out. But we cannot eat breakfast: he has an early meeting and I have one of my usual appointments -- this one with a new doc who is replacing one of my retiring docs. So it's like a meet and greet. And as luck would have it, this new doc has a love of travel -- to Italy and France. I think we remembered to touch on some medical issues and questions, but I'm not sure. In any case, we had a lovely time explaining to each other our historic affiliations with these two countries. Medicine, as it was once practiced: with a heart.
Ed was gone by the time I came home, so breakfast was on the porch, but without him. A bit cool, but so very lovely that I did not mind it in the least.
And now I have competing projects bearing down on me: I want to seed the meadows, I want to transplant some lilies from shady spots, I want to chip the spot where we dug out the rhubarb, I want to spray the last batch of late tulips that came to life overnight (see above). And I need to feed the potted flowers -- keeping to a first-of-the-month schedule. But I also have to help with the Steffi House project. Phone calls to make -- that kind of stuff.
And, I have to pack an overnight bag. Long ago, I promised my daughter that I would move to her place for the day and night while she and her husband went away (work, not pleasure). This used to be an easy peasy thing, but has become more of a Big Deal, ever since Sandpiper grew to be an active, willful (but delightful!) almost three year old, and ever since getting everyone off to school by 7:30 became a Project of Great Magnitude and Impossibility for me. I can imagine a time when babysitting all three will not be so demanding. (Maybe.) But that time is not right now, so I have to psych myself for it and pack up all necessities to take with me just in case.
Okay, I have a few hours for all the above! Can I do it? Almost! (I run out of time on the meadow seeding project.)
Before long, it's time to pick up the big two at school. Damn. Police in front. No kids in sight anywhere. A lockdown? I check the news. Indeed. Active shooter in a school in the town just to the west of us. How do you count your blessings when some kids, dozens of kids, not too far from here, are running from school because they are told to RUN? While others are hiding in closets and bathrooms? Because there is that pop pop sound of gunfire? Are we insane to let this happen again and again?
Thankfully, my two had a lockdown without being told they had a lockdown. They come out happy and excited about their special eve.
They've already decided that today will be ice cream day and so we go to the local coffee shop first.
Then to the farmhouse...
And finally, we head out to Sandpiper's school. We pick up the lively little guy. (You cannot just tell him to stay on the sidewalk. You have to chase him to make sure that he does not choose this moment to act out his playful impishness. Out on the street, for example.)
Initially, the kids wanted to go out for a pizza. Is that doable? A 71 year olds taking three little kids to a restaurant? Crazy, right? Luck is with me: they change their minds and opt for Culver's. Nice drive up Culver's. America's best fast food! No restaurant manners required! No chasing down of little restless ones.
Sparrow has a date with the neighborhood kids, so I need to get him to the house, fed and ready by 6:25. We just manage that.
And eventually the youngest guy's (theoretical) bedtime approaches. (Well, I tell him that it is bedtime when I feel I need it to be his bedtime.)
Good night, Sandpiper! One more Daniel Tiger story! Good night Sandpiper!
Many minutes later, he is settled. Snowdrop and I read, Sparrow returns, bedtime routines put everyone where they need to be. Except for the cats. They look for opportunities to claims some food as their own.
Finally. All is quiet. And here's another break for me: parents are eager to return home today. Midnight maybe? Or later still? In any case, I dont have to sleepover (unless I fall asleep, over here) and more importantly, I dont have to be the one taking them to school tomorrow morning. Life is suddenly very very easy!
Happy, happy Fete du Muguet! May the tiny lilies continue to bloom in your life! Figuratively speaking and for real. Intoxicating fragrance! The hygge of spring!
with so much love...
