Happy Beltaine everyone! Tis May Day with all the flowers, politics and smoldering of what may become summer romances. This coming weekend is the big May Day Parade ( http://hobt.org ) with picnics in the park and all kinds of festivities.
The celebration probably comes to us from old town festivals celebrating the first planting. Either it’s the party to get everyone together before they go out into the fields. That makes it the night before the first plowing of the earth (a metaphor for other Beltaine activities.) Or it could be the celebration after getting the seeds in. The ritual of “making rain” so the seeds will grow.
The political overtones of International Workers Day, have roots all over the world. Apparently “spring fever” can be a motivation for protesting unfair labor practices. We have our 8 hour work week (how many of us actually have that mythical 8 hour work week anymore?) because of those protests.
I feel a little about Beltaine the way I feel about New Years Eve. It’s a great party, but it’s kind of depressing to go home alone. I’m not looking for a “hook-up” and I’m not really ready to open my life up to share it with anyone. (My daughter seems to be here more since she moved out than she was before she left.) I am really enjoying the small freedoms of being in charge again. Orion is still with me, of course, but he’s pretty accommodating as long as I get him on the bus in the morning and am here when he comes back in the afternoons.
It’s just that the birds are singing love songs and the trees are having tree sex (and interfering with my breathing but that’s another story.) I’m a little melancholy about not having achieved a childhood fantasy about sitting on the porch swing with my husband. (No picture of a porch swing because I don’t even have a porch!)
The good thing is there is too much to do and no time to sit around bemoaning my lack of a love life. The season is upon us and somehow I’ll just have to figure it all out. The grass will get mowed, the strawberries will get weeded, the tomatoes will get planted. It’s time to dance around the fires. I may even make it to the parade.