Believe me, I’m as sick and tired of showing you pictures of my back yard as you are seeing them but, since you’ve followed our sad saga thus far I figured you should see the final (at least I hope it’s the final) insult. Sometime during the night I was awakened by the familiar ticking sound of ice pellets hitting the roof followed by a a crunching crash out back.
Hip hip hurray for the month of May
Just when you thought the old maple tree had been stripped of all her vulnerable branches by the last storm, another large one couldn’t stand the strain and lost its grip in the darkness narrowly missing the same powerline that got snapped two weeks ago. It will now, I suppose, end up in a humiliating mountain of mulch rather than fulfilling its noble calling of providing oxygen for the atmosphere, a roost for robins and sparrows and squirrels, beautifying the neighborhood and rendering a bit of shade from the hot summer sun for the old couple who dwell below.
It’s May Day. In my youth, I remember giving and receiving little packages of goodies delivered to and by special friends. It was my first experience with the power of passion..especially if the Anundson or Eggebratten girls came to our door with a tray of May baskets.
I don’t think they do May baskets much anymore do they?
A lot of other images come to mind when pondering past May firsts; the aroma of freshly turned dirt for the garden; the sight of tulips reaching up from their subterranean slumber and riding into the blue sky aboard a single green stem; the sound of lawn mowers roaring to life and the curses of men whose machines refused to respond to dozens of tiring tugs on the starter rope.
I also have vivid memories of watching the annual May Day show of Russian military might on TV. Miles of missiles and synchronized Soviet soldiers passing in review before stern-faced old fat guys in medal-laden uniforms. I always figured it was only a matter of time before one of those ICBM’s would be launched..intentionally or accidentally..at us and that would be that.
Before Hell decided to freeze over, Linda and I along with our friends Denny and Joan, took advantage of our faux spring a few days ago to have a picnic in the park. Our park of choice is the Perry Nature Area just east of Sioux Falls. In fact, the area used to “be” the community of East Sioux Falls. It’s a lovely spot where families who worked the Sioux Quartzite quarries in the early 20th century used to live. The only remnants of their existence, though, are a few cement foundations and flowers; all varieties of flowers, planted in backyard gardens by women in bonnets nearly a century ago that still pop up every spring. The poor trees that give Perry Nature Area it’s charm also took a beating from the ice storm but the mighty Bur Oak, believed to be the oldest in South Dakota, still stands straight and tall; too tough to be intimidated by a little ice. The four of us were all smiles as we sat at our usual table under the park shelter; commenting on what a joy it was to finally have seemingly awakened from our long winter nightmare. We offered up toast after toast with our glasses full of wine. We don’t bring cold chicken and potato salad to these picnics; it’s wine and cheese and warm biscuits and butter. It was while opening our second bottle of Pinot Noir that we began to wonder if Perry Nature Area was among the parks to ban booze. The thought was a bit unnerving but not enough to pack up and leave. I had a plan in mind if the park manager would have pulled up in his pick-up to give us a talking to. “We’re having a church service,” I’d say. “You’ve come just in time for communion and a prayer of thanksgiving for this beautiful day.” He’d retreat in shame, of course. “Ha, ha ha..we sure fooled him,” I’d say while popping the cork on the last Merlot. “I sure hope God has a sense of humor,” Joanie said while looking up at the blue sky and sunshine.
“Of course He does,” I replied, “What do you think He’d do..make it snow in May?”
15 Responses
I used to take May Day as an opportunity to leave a basket on my elementary school crush’s doorstep in order to get a short chase and kiss on the cheek….Even if she really wanted nothing to do with me it sure was fun. Ahhh the memories….
I’m so glad you wrote about May Day as it brought back memories when all of us kids lived on Holiday Avenue and would leave our baskets on a doorstep, ring the doorbell and run. Do you suppose there is an app for that now?
“Don’t knock the weather: nine-tenths of the people couldn’t start a conversation if it didn’t change once in a while.” Kin Hubbard
LOL!! Home sick as an old tired dog but wanted to catch up on news and family. I have gotten my smile of the day thank to you : )
The Anundson girls gave out May baskets today as a matter of fact. Do you remember Miss Gilbertson (Gibby) ? She made the most incredible may baskets & I sure wish I had saved them. I know I didn’t appreciate them then as much as I would now! They were always fancy, homemade of course & beautiful! So, did you run after us to give us a kiss? I forget….
Cussin Doug….I’m sure you kept the wine in subtle brown paper bags, so no one would be the wiser!! And, Velveeta and Cheez-Wiz…don’t really qualify as “cheese”. I also think it’s time you leveled with Lynnal and told her that it was your heart felt desire to give here a nice firm handshake and thank her for her consideration in leaving you a May basket.
May Day to my wife & I means it is our 2nd daughter’s birthday. Some 30+ years ago I was speeding down the highway in my Datsun B-210 heading toward the McHenry, Ill. hospital! About all I could do was 70MPH! And that wasn’t fast enough!!! WHEN WE GOT TO THE HOSPITAL I SIGNED MY NAME ON ONE LINE, GRABBED A GOWN & THERE WAS OUR CINDY- SO WE WILL NEVER FORGET May 1ST!!! Stu Surma
Lynnal: I doubt I had the nerve back then to chase after you upon receiving a May basket. In part because I was such a shy innocent boy..but mostly because I knew your dad would be waiting with a tree branch in his meaty hands prepared to protect the honor of his three little girls. Did Al or Lorraine ever know about the neighborhood co-ed games of “catch ’em and kiss ’em” we played a few years later in the vacant lot next to Oines’? It’s where I first learned to love the aroma of girls’ breath perfumed with the scent of Wrigley’s chewing gum.
Double Mint or Juicy Fruit??? What would Mrs. Weber say???!!!
I also remember taking May Baskets to the Eggebraaten girls in Rutland. I had to run real fast so they wouldn’t catch me and give me a kiss. I never was fast enough! Thanks for the memories.
Anyone remember the May Pole?
When I was in elementary school different ribbons of crepe paper were attached to the top of the tetherball poles. Each of the students would take a ribbon and would “dance” around the pole. One group of students went in one direction, another group in the opposite direction and we went under the opposite direction students arms to create a colorful lace pattern. It was fun.
Oh Doug, you forget……….it wasn’t “catch em & kiss em” that we played! It was called cowboys & Indians! That is what we always told the folks we were playing in the empty lot after dark! lol …….oh the memories! & you think my Dad had meaty hands? what do you mean………..he was a softy!!!
I remember the beautiful May baskets Aunt Leila would make for us to distribute, full of candy. They were each little works of art crafted from everyday items. How I wish I had even a picture of one now. I’ll have to settle for the wonderful memories! Thanks for bringing that to mind. Great to see you this past weekend. Love to you and Mom-Linda!
Missing your bi weekly/weekly blog. You must be too weak from your diet to post.
I’m working at a greenhouse and a man came in and bought a beautiful little pack of flowers the day before May Day. He told me it was a May basket for his wife. Sweet, huh ?