For the last half hour a bright golden sphere has kept me company here, climbing above the distant hills and burning away shadows. As it slowly moves upward, playing a game of peek through the thick branches of our bordering firs, our eyes meet from time to time. I feel promise and playfulness as though the sun were as young as this season.
It's May Day. Distant childhood memories surface: dancing around a maypole as an elementary class activity, and pretending I was a young maiden of olden times; making paper flowers that would become Mothers' Day gifts, hoping beyond hope that this gift would bring light to Mom's eyes; based on a story from her childhood, gathering tiny bouquets of wildflowers, and dropping them on the front steps of our closest neighbors, thrilled to share an ancient tradition with her.
I'm aware of warm softness around the edges of pictures that used to surface coated in icy fog. I love the little girl trying so hard to be or do something that would make her Queen of May in her mother's eyes. I love the mother believing the only way to keep her daughter safe was to turn her into a meek, obedient and silent wraith - exactly the mother's chosen survival cloak in her own sad childhood, and exactly the opposite of her daughter's nature.
In my North Idaho childhood, spring didn't really arrive until May. This year, in my Pacific Northwest adulthood, that seems to be true as well. In this moment as I sit in the still and birthing glow of this new day, for the first time in weeks I feel light in every sense of the word.
Today we're going to Catherine Creek for our annual wildflower pilgrimage. While I hope for glorious surprises, I'm also happy to the point of tears anticipating the certainties of the day. The sun will keep us company for hours ahead. The air will be soft and alive. The sky will beckon with blues that seem new each spring.
Walt and I will be our best connection for the greatness and grace of the day, and for whatever might create shadows.
Breath comes easier. Worries lose their sting. The world feels fresh, new, and full of promise. The sun has that much power, May's gift to us all on her birthday.
|Shooting Stars from last year's Catherine Creek pilgrimage.|