May 1

It was light enough to see at 4:50 this morning, and the birdsong was already in full swing, as it will be for the next month and a half. I imagined that they, like me, wanted to cry out “May Day, May Day” at the start of this perfect morning.

I fell in love with May growing up in the Midwest, for it represented the marking point of genuine spring, of school days nearing the end, and of time spent out-of-doors with school mates, playing in the woods by our house. May was still crisp enough that the mosquitoes had yet to flourish, and the sweltering humidity of the summer was still two months away. It was shades of green on every tree, changing daily as new growth moved toward maturity. It was colors and smells to stimulate your senses. It was sweet hay just growing in the fields, still far enough away from maturity which demanded our help in cutting, baling and hauling.

I love May still for all these reasons, and more.