It’s finally May! This is my
favorite month of the year, because usually, by May, the winter is past, and the
flowers are blooming. Usually, by May, the aroma of freshly mown grass is mixing
with the scent of those flowers in the air. Laundry can be seen flapping happily
in the breeze, and the hope for new beginnings that seems to always dwell within
my heart is alive and thriving with anticipation.
Yes, I’ve qualified all of the
above with the word “usually” because we all know nature can and will have its
own persnickety way. This must have been so when I was a child, too, because my
mother adhered to what at that time was an old saw—that you didn’t plant
your garden until the Victoria Day weekend, the weekend closest to the 24th of the month of May. This wasn’t just
an adage, it was an acknowledged fact. I also reference the seed packets that we
used to get. That caution on the back that warned not to plant until “all danger
of frost was past” meant near the end of May, according to my mom.
In May, the days become
noticeably longer. What May also use to represent to me was the end of the
television viewing season. New seasons of returning shows and brand new shows
began in the fall, and ended in May—freeing me from the addictive pull of the
“idiot box”, allowing me lots of time to do yard work.
The television season seems to
be constant now, but I still adhere to my own, admittedly old fashioned notions.
All of the series I watch are on the same American networks from my youth—ABC,
NBC and CBS. I really don’t do the cable programs, although my beloved certainly
does. Being an author of romance, I probably shouldn’t admit I’ve never watched
“Outlander”, but it’s true, and I have no logical explanation for that. My
husband loves that show, and he’s also a huge fan of Game of Thrones. That one I
can tell you without reservation I will never watch. I tend not to view anything
with blood or violence.
When I’m not watching the
handful of television programs I enjoy (mostly dramas or a couple that are
considered reality shows. We won’t even talk about so-called comedies
these days) I’m at my computer, writing, or at least pretending to be, or I’m
reading a book. My beloved is happy to don his wireless headphones, so I can
escape the noise of the box while I work or read. Yes, that does put us in
separate rooms for a good part of each evening, with the added conversational
hindrance that he’s wearing those headphones with the volume on high. Shouting
from here to there gets me nowhere. But hey, that’s what cell phones and text
messaging are for, right?
May is the month when I can
leave the doors to my house open for a bit each day. Sadly, those doors lack
screens of any kind, so as soon as the bugs begin to emerge, the doors remain
closed. But at least I usually have a few days when I can air the house out from
the long winter. I do have a couple of windows that still have their screens,
and that helps, too.
May isn’t the month when the
ants show up, usually. That’s April, and I was actually getting worried because
April was nearly done and I hadn’t seen a single one. Silly, right? I was
worried about not having the usual ant problem. But in these times of climate
change and evolving (or maybe devolving) natural occurrences, no ants by mid
April is different. If the ants can’t survive, what chance do we have? But whew,
I can report seeing, and disposing of my first ant of the season on April
27th.
Curiously the little bugger was
on my writing desk, not in the kitchen. Hmm, that’s still different. Maybe I
should have stayed worried? Naw. Worrying is for those who don’t have any
vision, who don’t have any courage…and who don’t have any hope.
I may not have a comprehensive
vision, and I doubt I’m particularly brave. But hope? Yeah, I’ve got lots and
lots of that commodity.
So much so, that I spend my
life doing what I can, fostering that quality in others.
Love,
Morgan
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