In the Merry Month of May

Warm first day of summer weather this last weekend of April and today, May Day. (Fog this morning after a balmy evening.)

All the growing food that was just sprouted last week is well up, well flowered, growing and going where it needs to be. With a couple of exceptions: The watermelons have not sprouted at all, so I have little hope for them; the basil is almost all gone dead or dying, with one or two runty plants struggling along. Oh yes, and some cursed critter ate all my sunflower sprouts a few days after they sprouted.

Sigh.

I think we will start some new sunflowers in a tray and transplant them only when they can withstand the onslaught of the snails and other critters.

For organic controls we will try the traditional bowl o'beer (to drown the snails and our sunflower sorrows in) along with some organic bacteria called BT, and maybe a pod of Good Snails. (Although the UC Davis folk say even Good Snails eat seedlings. Sigh. )

At least one site suggests a spray made of garlic to repel slugs and snails, so maybe we will do an experiment along those lines too.

Hal an tow

This is, of course, the day which marks the Start of Summer for most northern European traditions; it is, not incidentally, also the "quarter day" upon which contracts came due, lease payments, taxes, wages etc. It just happens to be about halfway between the Vernal Equinox (~March 21) and the Summer Solstice (~June 21).

Traditional celebrations would have included all night celebrations outside of town last night, May Eve, with morning seeing the revelers return bedecking the themselves and others with May flowers.

It is a large gripe of mine that the Summer Solstice is NOT the start of summer, as it is usually termed on news shows and even some calenders. It is the MIDDLE of summer; indeed, the traditional Midsummer's Day is June 24, St. Stephens day.

So, while I am out quietly celebrating the greening of the world, with a nod to the Greenman on the wall, and debating whether I can convince our two oldest to dance a Maypole in the back yard (grin), the cycle keeps turning -- no matter what we call it.

Hal an tow

Jolly lum-a-low

We were up, long before the day-o

To welcome in the summer,

To welcome in the May-O

For Summer is i-cummin in,

And Winter's gone away-O.

-- Traditional Maying Song

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And so, to all a Merry May! Perhaps this evening it will be a good time to bring a bottle of the Fall Cider up from the basement and see if it has gone drinkable yet.