For me, the month of May is the tolling of the church bell, calling, reminding everyone, that May is the month of Mary, come to evening devotion.
May is purple with lilacs and green with the unfurling of the leaves on the chestnut trees.
May is the white of a first holy communion dress, the starched cloth at the communion rail, the lace of a Sodality veil.
May is circles, processing three times around the church, the circlet of flowers, the crown of the Queen of Poland, the swirls of incense.
May is voices, young and the old, some in tune, some not so much, singing hymns that have been sung by generations before us.
May is flowered kerchiefs framing faces with deep grooves and filmy eyes, arthritic fingers moving on black rosary beads. Zdrowaś Maryjo, łaski pełna...Hail Mary, full of grace...
May is chanting the Litany in Polish, a sound that gradually steals the color from the stained glass windows and leaves the gray of dusk; Święta Maryjo, módl się za nami...Holy Mary, pray for us...
May is the coolness of the spring air when we emerge from church, the women glad for the sweaters on their shoulders, as everyone slowly turns towards home, the birds twittering.
One of the biggest moments in my life was being able to sign for my very own library card. When I'm not reading, researching and writing I'm riding my bike, sewing or gardening. I love flea markets, folk art, and traveling to Poland.