In Maine, May is a month when everything gallops. Each day brings some kind of change—the grass is a little greener, the plants in the flower gardens are a little taller, the red buds on the trees are now tinged with green. Every year I think, “Slow down, slow down you lovely month.” And I wonder why oh why March couldn’t speed ahead the way May does. While May rushes headlong, March drags its mucky yet icy heels. It’s funny how two months with the same number of days can feel so different.
In two days, the hyacinths have bloomed. The blossoms are not fully opened, but in another day or two, they will be.
In two days, new green leaves have begun to emerge on the trees, displacing the delicate flowers that preceded them.
In two days, I have cleared half the gardens out front, and if all goes well, they will be three-quarters cleared today.
And in two days time, the black flies have emerged. There is something in my body chemistry that draws them, and they swarm in a black cloud around my head. Any bit of exposed skin is fair game for those little bighters, and at times I resort to wearing a cap sprayed with insect repellent.
The black flies will be gone by June, and good riddance to them. Unlike the flowers on the trees, I don’t wish the black flies to stick around one day longer than they do.
It is good to have some things gallop by.