In these lovely days of May, the daffodils, violets, irises, blueits, tulips and so on are up and showing off their beautiful colors. The air is heavy with their scent, and, after so many months of snow and ice, it is intoxicating.
The dogwood and other flowering trees (I don’t know all their names; I tend to call any flowering tree a dogwood or a flowering crab tree) are also in full bloom. When the wind blows, it scatters the tiny pink and white petals everywhere. In fact, if you stand still near one of these fragrant trees, you will soon be covered in what I always call “fairy rain.”
It always seems like magic when you see them raining down like warm snowflakes on the wind. I remember sitting under one of the ancient gnarled old apple trees in the front yard of the house I grew up in. I would sit still and let the petals drift on and around me like a lacy blanket.
I feel the same way about milkweed; the dry brown pods burst open in the fall and the soft silver-white floss drifts out into the wind. Piloting each spindrift there is a tiny brown seed; the offspring of the milkweed plant. Off they go, twirling in the breeze like little ballerinas. They, too, fall under my category of “fairy rain.” Off they fly to where the tiny seeds can take root in the dirt and grow into a new milkweed plant. They have always fascinated me.
My godmother, the mother of my best friend and now sister-in-law, had a beautiful paperweight that I loved. In it was captured a beautiful fluff of milkweed with its seed clinging to it. To my surprise and great gratitude, last Christmas she gifted me with it. I was touched beyond words, and this lovely paperweight now is in pride of place on my jewelry armoire.
During this fleeting season of spring before summer’s full heat is upon us, please take the time to watch and appreciate those whimsical drifts of fairy rain. It’s like a short visit from a magical princess.