So, once upon a time, I lived in the tiny town of Forks, WA (now famous for it’s apparent population of sparkly vampires, which I somehow missed while there). In Forks, I worked for a program providing services to victims of Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault, and the local police chief was a member of the Board of Directors. On the first of May, he walked through the office crying, “Mayday! Mayday!” and delivering red carnations to every member of our staff (he lived for puns). It was a lovely introduction to the tradition of May Day flowers, a somewhat dying art.
In honor of that introduction, and of the joy of getting flowers for no reason, I’ve tried to keep May Day alive with Moon. Now, at four, I feel like she’s really gotten the idea for the first time. We made cones to hang the flowers from our neighbors doors out of paper grocery bags, with a wet paper towel and a plastic bag wrapped around the bottom of the stems, held in place with rubber bands. The handle from the grocery bag lets you hang the flowers from the doorknob of your recipient, and make a quick getaway after ringing the doorbell.
We didn’t have a perfect track record — we were frequently caught by her friends as we tried to make our sneak deliveries, but Moon was okay with our imperfect record (particularly when it meant an impromptu playdate with friends). It made a great day, both a lesson in the joy of giving and the quiet time to work on a project together.
Belated Happy May Day, everyone.