Not May Day, as in help. But May Day, as in May 1. Flower baskets on door knobs, May pole dancing, and Maifest at the nearby German heritage based town.
After a heavy rainstorm yesterday, complete with hail, thunder that made the boys cling to my legs and shake like leaves, and a several-hour power outage that had us playing Scrabble by candle light, it was wonderful to wake up to sunshine and a bright blue sky.
I'm trying really hard to be involved in local activities, see local attractions, and do whatever is available. So after I heard about the May Day festivities occurring at a nearby town (from the dental hygienist at my last dental appointment, no less), I was determined we would go.
The boys weren't sure at first, but words like "parade" and "treats" enticed them out of bed, into their clothes, and into the car. I used similar words on Hubster, as well.
They ended up being glad we went. After all, it's hard to not be excited when lederhosen-clad men in wagons pulled by ponies throw handfuls of candy at you.
After the candy-fest, um, I mean, parade, was over, we watched the Maipole dancers.
Hubster had done a May Pole dance in elementary school. But I doubt he got to wear authentic dresses and flower wreaths.
The festivities over, we wandered the streets of the historic village, snacking on fresh kettle corn. It's a good thing Hubster was with me, otherwise I would have dragged the boys into every single one of the darling shops. Instead, I settled for taking pictures of almost every single darling shop.
This same town is having a Renaissance Festival in a few weeks. I've already told Hubster and the boys we will definitely be going.