Not to jinx things *knocks wood* but it finally feels like spring this morning, though that has less to do with the sunshine and more of the new page displayed on the calendar.

The tiny elementary school I attended always celebrated May Day on the first.  Volunteer moms took home reels of sateen ribbon.  I'd run the length out of little living and dining rooms with a pencil stuck through the reel and then SNIP! until we had piles of Maypole streamers, enough for two or three poles.

Everyone dressed up.  There were poetry recitals and later, when I got old and bossy enough, short plays I adapted and directed.  I believe my directorial debut was the scene from Laura Ingalls Wilder's On the Banks of Plum Creek  when Nellie got the leeches on her legs.  The next year was more ambitious... several scenes from Maeterlinck's The Blue Bird.

May was always the beginning of springtime activities at school... homemade tortillas for Cinco de Mayo, homemade paper and pressed flower projects for Mother's Day.  Sitting here this morning, I can remember the smell of wild buttercups and purple lupine, and I'm eight or nine again, kicking my way through the wet grass, pretending to be Laura while sitting in a tree, bossing my friends and my younger sister around with my earliest of theatrical endeavors.

Favorite springtime memory?