May Garden Journal

As the calendar turned its page from April to May, we welcomed May Day, that ancient celebration of fertility, growth, and the promise of summer. Though quietly observed now, its roots reach deep into the soil of tradition, reminding us of bonfires and blooming branches, of communities dancing around maypoles and honoring the greening earth. In our garden, May Day arrives not with fanfare, but in the hush of soft petals unfolding and bees beginning their sacred work.

Yet, as always, nature resists tidy narratives.

The weeds, in their relentless tenacity, rise right alongside the cherished seedlings. They are nothing if not devoted, unapologetically thriving in every untended corner. They teach us a hard truth: that the line between nuisance and necessity is often blurred. After all, some weeds fix nitrogen in our soil or provide shelter for tiny allies. Still, we kneel, we pull, we persist—grateful for their lessons, if not always their presence.

And then there is the rain. A paradox in motion.

Blessing our roots, plumping up peas and coaxing lettuce into crisp curls. But too much, and it leaches nutrients, flattens the tender, and invites the sly arrival of mildew. In dry spells, we plead for it. When it lingers too long, we bargain with the sky. Such is the gardener’s covenant: to love what we cannot control.

Lately, the frequent showers have been both boon and barrier, keeping us from executing many of our essential garden tasks. The soft earth becomes heavy and slippery, tools stay idle, and plans for planting, weeding, and pruning wait patiently for clearer skies. While the rain nurtures growth unseen, it also reminds us that patience is part of the harvest.

Amidst this, we’ve been lucky to witness delightful visitors. Flocks of cedar waxwings swooping through the garden, their sleek feathers gleaming and high-pitched calls punctuating the air. We pause, tools forgotten, to watch their graceful dance among the branches, a fleeting show of nature’s artistry that feels like a quiet celebration all its own.

And speaking of celebrations, our recent Queen Bee Bash was a true triumph. An afternoon filled with laughter, shared stories, and the simple joy of coming together in this beloved space. There’s a special magic in opening the garden gates to our community, blending hands, hearts, and hopes under the canopy of blossoms. Thank you all for making it so memorable.

So here we are in the gentle chaos of May. The soil is warm, the winds are still mischievous, and the garden grows with equal parts grace and defiance.

May your hands stay dirty, your knees stained green, and your heart wide open.