MAY DRESSED IN HER FINERY

It’s May, the queen of all the months, who assumes her reign amid colorful blossoms and shades of green. Above, in the blue sky, the merry warm sun dips down to awaken the daffodils, violets, bursting buds, and earthy grasses. Spring rains softly blanket the deciduous trees unfolding their delicate leaves while above in the branches, birds chatter, scold, and sing.

I always think of May as the beginning of summer, despite the real date of June 20^th. It’s the time when we shed our coats and head outside. Around us, the soft breeze carries the fresh scent of blooming flowers and wet earth. At nightfall in the northern regions, we always get the joyous sound of spring peepers calling out from the wetlands.

Every year, my husband and I tell each other that we’re going to cut back on the flowers we are going to buy, hang, display, or plant.  It’s a pointless threat. The other day, we went on our yearly search of four ferns to hang on the patio, along with other potted plants and flowers to make the area more colorful and cozier. We arrived home with more than enough sunlight to glance at the vacant beds we also plant with annual flowers and chuckled. We know we’ll be scouring the greenhouses for more vegetation.   

May is also the time we take the time to visit the Memorial Day services at Historic Crown Crest Cemetery in Central Pennsylvania where the American Legion and the Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) take turns each year having a ceremony in honor and memory of all those who served and are no longer with us. I am part of a four-generation military family with my husband and son having served, and my husband’s late grandfather and late father also having served. It’s a chilling and heartbreaking sensation to stand in the cemetery and see the rows and rows of American flags flying from the graves of those who have served at one time in their lives. 

As we move through the month of May, named after the Greek Goddess Maia who symbolizes nature and growing plants, let’s bask in her finery, the warmth of the weather, and the rejuvenation of the living world around us.  

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THE ROBIN - Singing and Ringing in Spring

Everyone has their favorite sign of spring. Some judge its arrival by various plants like the pussy willows or emerging tulips, or the return of wild geese, honking as they fly northward.

But for me, when I hear the first carols of the robins as they go bob, bob, bobbing on the greening backyard lawn, I get a feeling of optimism and glee that spring has sprung. Known to prefer an environment around homes and farmsteads, the robins will hurry and scurry to construct their nests in our high, dense rhododendrons at the side of our house. They are not opposed to building on flat surfaces under our deck, or on a man-made nesting platform either.

The true robin redbreast is a native of the Old World. Our robin in the United States is a thrush, but the pioneers named it the robin in remembrance of the bird that was common on the English countryside.

Nesting Platform

The nests of the robin is made of mud and lined with grass. The eggs are a pale, bluish green which we refer to as “robin’s egg blue.” They prefer to eat worms and fruit. Many times in July, I find them scouting my blueberry bushes for the first ripened fruit. If I put a net over the bushes, they often find a way in—by sneaking underneath the covering.

During spring, summer, and fall, I keep a bird bath near our patio. You can see them lined up, waiting to take a bath as soon as I replenish the bowl with fresh water. Then, I have to clean it again, since my little feathered friends have mud on their feet.

Folklore tells us that many people believe a visit from a robin is a sign that a lost relative is visiting them. Or in the spiritual world, the robin is viewed as a symbol of visits from deceased loved ones. I prefer the more modern symbol associated with the robin—a new beginning, new life, fortune and good luck. And of course, they’re my harbinger of spring. 

 

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