"This month the full flowering moon floats above the horizon, serene and eternal. Its light is translucent and casts shadows delicate as lace. In the rich nighttime scent of lilacs, it has all the mystery and tenderness of young love."
The trees have bloomed here. I love this time of year and there are several spots where I walk and pass by trees in bloom. There is always just a short window of opportunity to see the buds open and explode into color. Tiny pink buds open into fragrant tiny white flowers. And now I will occasionally catch the scent of lilacs and I have to stop and let the aroma sink in before moving on. It has been a strangely cool and very wet (and for some in my area that means yet more flooding) May, which makes me wonder what summer will bring.
In Gladys Tabor's Stillmeadow May seems all about gardens and blooming flowers too. She has a soft spot for violets it seems. She wonders whether a person is born with a sense of beauty of special things or if it comes with being immersed in nature while growing up.
"There are lots of violets at Stillmeadow. I like to go to the upper meadow to find the white ones, which I put in a tiny child's mug. By the back door bloom the almost-black purple ones, which are much larger and have wider shining leaves. I suspect these were planted in that particular spot many years ago."
"There are the regular blue violets, too, shorter stemmed and plentiful in number. They pop up in the middle of the lawn, bloom at the edge of the pond, and grow by the woodshed where the white lilac is coming out. They have stolen out beyond the fence to carpet the vegetable garden; they peep around the end of the woodpile. In short, they take over!"
That actually sounds quite pleasant to me! If Gladys is the cook in the household (I didn't realize she wrote cookbooks, too, which she mentions in this chapter--no wonder she is always sharing recipes), her friend Jill was the gardener and could not wait to sink her hands into the earth come spring. I imagine Stillmeadow must have been quite a place--a countrywoman's delight, which Tabor most definitely considers herself--a countrywoman at heart.
One thing I love about reading this book over the course of the year is how it makes me think about the rhythms of the year. Tabor was certainly in tune with nature. So often it, for me anyway, it comes down to the more obvious aggravations that the seasons bring. Too cold, too snowy, too rainy and soon too hot and humid. If even for a short while she makes me stop and think about all the smaller details that change with each season. The things that should not be overlooked and appreciated no matter how quickly they may pass (those blooms on the tree open so quickly--just a few days and then they are gone!). After all the work Jill put into planting their garden (and it was a lot of work), the change is eye opening to her.
" . . . I ask myself, is this the same countryside that only a few months ago was swept by bitter winds? Or did I only imagine the stinging snow and glittering icicles? Changing seasons will forever be a mystery to me. Time has folded winter away into yesterday; tomorrow, summer will make May just a memory."
It is funny to think that not so long ago I was shivering in my coat and covered in layer of clothes and today I am in short sleeves with just a sweater to keep the spring chill at bay.
I do have to share one more thing. I wish I had created a sort of dramatis personae in the front of the book. Jill I know, but there are other characters that people her book. Family and friends and I am not always entirely sure who is who. I think Betsy is her granddaughter and great fan of Gladys's dogs.
"Only the other day I looked out and saw Don's daughter Betsy rolling on the green grass with the cockers. I noticed that she was feeding them dog biscuits--those pretty colored ones. Holly was not the least interested: she doesn't care for dog biscuits. However, I saw that Betsy was giving a biscuit to each dog and taking one herself. All of them were chewing happily. I have made it a firm practice never to interfere with the raising of the new generation, so I didn't say anything. I reflected that anything more sterilized than a hard-baked dog biscuit could hardly be found. Perhaps she was just trying to be one of the cockers."
That made me laugh. Apparently no harm came and I suspect worse things have been consumed by small children!