Growing up, my best friend was this boy across the street named Dylan. I also loved his sister, baby brother, and parents. In fact, I wanted them to be my family. So, so much.
Anyway, every May 1st, his mom--who was the loveliest, happiest, kindest hippie woman you'd ever meet, and I still sigh happily when I think about her--would help us assemble tiny flower bouquets with all of the daffodils, marigolds, apple blossoms, and dandilions we could find. Then we would walk around putting the arrangements on our neighbor's doors, then ring the bell and run away.
This was one of my favoritest things to do. And today, being May Day, I am reminded of those days when Dylan and I would hike around the neighborhood in Fairfield, sans shoes, delivering messy little bouquets of weeds. *SIGH* Those were the days.
Happy May Day.