My elementary-school-self made May Day bouquets just after sunup and left them at the front doors of neighbors. When I lived in an apartment in Kansas in the 70’s I wandered the complex and unclaimed shrubs in the ‘hood to put together smallish bouquets for the first day of May. In New England, my two little boys aided in the task and were delighted to leave the bouquet, ring the doorbell and run off.

This morning, the making of May Day bouquets was after coffee and after breakfast. I could think of a dozen neighbors who would like the May greeting and I have the needed flowers in my garden. I started with two, then another three and finally the last two. I was short on glass jars.

Next year, maybe I’ll plan ahead and make more. I’ve had these reminders from my sons on the counter all week.

But no more wordy meandering. Please read my writing mentor’s thoughts on May Day. Elizabeth Marro publishes weekly reflections at Spark. She describes it as a community for readers, writers and others who want to share what ignites them. I found her piece today a reflection of my own scattered but satisfying week.

May Gray, Mayday, Morning Dew

No more words. Just my hastily assembled May Day bouquets.