Siberian Iris

Day 231: Siberian Iris (Iris sibirica) could be suspected of having plans for world domination, so persistent is it once it is established in a location. However, its spread can be held in check by placing it where incursions can be mowed. It is such a pretty addition to the garden, but it is difficult to weed between the rhizomes as is any iris, so should be planted where it can crowd out grass without impinging on other desirable ornamentals. Mine grow in several locations: up against one side of the garage, in between Thujas, at the back corner of the house...all places which needed both colour and greenery. The cheerful bright blue-purple flags are a welcome sight in the grey month of May.

One Off, One On

Day 230: In this household, looms do not stay empty long. I usually have the next warp already measured (I call it the "warp-in-waiting") so that as soon as I cut a project off, I can begin hanging the next one. However, taking a piece off the loom does not mean it's done, not by a long shot! The lavender and black Orange Peel coverlet was woven as two panels which had to be meticulously joined, and even before I wash it to full the fibers, I have to twist the fringes. That said, when I'm taking breaks from the finishing work, I will be working on hanging the new warp which in this case is a crackle-weave called Fantasy VI from the Handweaver's Pattern Book by Marguerite Porter Davison. The crackle will be three identical panels, each changing colour seven times, and will be stitched together to make a spring-hued tablecloth. Meanwhile, the Orange Peel will be an entry in this year's Washington State Fair.

Camp Coffee

Day 229: Thinking ahead to winter and the inevitable power outages, I've been gradually updating some of my emergency gear. It's all well and good to have a potful of yesterday's coffee on standby, but when that runs out, you're up the creek without a paddle unless you have another means of making brew. I decided to invest some of my hard-earned rewards points in a stainless steel "camp" coffee pot. Reading the reviews, I came to realize that the modern generation has no idea how to make coffee in a percolator, having become almost entirely dependent on technology in one form or another. The major complaint was that the coffee boiled out the spout. Well, d'uh! That's because you didn't turn down the heat after the first three "blurps" had chuckled their way into the clear knob. You won't get good coffee with the recommended three-minute brewing time, but a percolator isn't a timed process. When the coffee shows the right shade of brown in the clear knob, take it off the heat, but don't drink it yet. Another point about percolators is that you really don't need a filter, but...big caveat, here...you have to wait for the grounds to settle. Just to be sure I hadn't lost my touch, I made perked coffee this morning using some maple-flavoured grounds which were a gift from a friend. Although the maple took the brew beyond what I would normally call "coffee" (i.e, black, and strong enough to hold a spoon upright), it was far better than what comes out of my electric Mr. Coffee.

Columbine Collection

Day 228: Columbines have been one of the most reliable and rewarding additions to my flower beds over the years, but somehow I have managed to overlook our native species. It is bright red with a yellow skirt, a "single" type similar in form to the one at the lower right, although a purer red. The "doubles" have their own unique appeal, and even within the basic flower form may have various petal shapes and degree of ruffle. Once they are done blooming, the flowering stems may be cut back, leaving attractive mounds of foliage. In my experience, they do not re-seed easily, but if the seed pods are allowed to mature and dehisc, you may find the occasional plant popping up unexpectedly ten feet away from its parent the following year.

Homespun, Handwoven And Approved

Day 227: I took the handspun blanket off the loom day before yesterday and set myself to the task of tying the warp threads together in pairs, preparatory to crocheting an edge around it. Tippy jumped up on my lap, sniffed it all over, inhaling the sheepy scent of the wool, patted it a few times and settled in for a nap. When I got up, I folded the blanket in quarters and, since he seemed to like it, laid it over the arm of the chair so that part of it was on the seat. He promptly settled in, and when I say "settled in," I mean SETTLED IN. He did not budge off the blanket for at least six hours! My original intention for this 48" x 60" throw was to donate it to my favourite environmental group, but it seems it has a higher calling. I can always make another one for the Land Trust.

End Of My Rope

Day 226: Uh-oh, now what? I've come to the end of my rope, so to speak, plying two strands and having emptied one bobbin well ahead of the other. For many years, my solution to this problem involved unwinding the remaining singles, wrapping it around chairs, tables, doorknobs and so on until I reached the approximate middle, adding a weight of some sort at that point, and then following the same path in reverse so that I could join the ends, bobbin 1 to bobbin 2. As I continued plying, I'd have to get up periodically to untangle the weight as it tried to round a bend, and of course Skunk thought the slow-moving object was the best cat toy ever. Then one day as I was prowling YouTube, I discovered something called a "plying bracelet," actually a clever means of winding the remaining singles onto my hand in such a manner that the yarn would could be drawn from both ends. Once wound, the mass is unhitched from the fingers and slid onto the wrist. The ends can then be joined and plying continues as usual. I have to admit I was skeptical at first, but once I'd learned to follow the proper winding sequence, I was surprised to see how well the "bracelet" worked. It's arguably the best trick this old dog has learned in the last twenty years! Plying is still a slow project, though. Looking at the two two-ply bobbins I've completed this week, you would never imagine that the one on the left (brown tones, lace-weight bamboo fiber) took three days, while the one on the right ("raspberry yogurt," worsted weight wool) only took one. Plying done, I can now return to spinning singles.

Towel Day 2024

Day 225: Slartibartfast pretty much summed up my life philosophy when he said, "Perhaps I'm old and tired, but I always think that the chances of finding out what really is going on are so absurdly remote that the only thing to do is to say hang the sense of it and just keep yourself occupied." Happy Towel Day, fellow travellers! Something tells me the ride is going to get bumpier for a while, so be sure you have your towel, and don't panic. And remember, the answer to the Ultimate Question of life, the universe and everything is out there, even if it is wrong. (background image courtesy of NASA)

Pennyroyal

Day 224: Pennyroyal "is a species of flowering plant in the mint family, Lamiaceae, native to Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East. Crushed pennyroyal leaves emit a very strong fragrance similar to spearmint. Pennyroyal is a traditional folk remedy, emmenagogue, abortifacient, and culinary herb, but is toxic to the liver and has caused some deaths," to quote Wikipedia, referring to ingestion of the plant. There are some words in there it might do well to remember in these troubled times, but the reason I grow it is not included in that description. Mentha pulegium is nature's own insect repellent. Before I had a cedar chest, I used to store a pennyroyal sachet in my bags of raw wool, in my sweater drawer and among my wool hiking socks. The fragrance is quite pungent, as mentioned above, so it should be used sparingly. A small packet containing no more than a tablespoon of the dried herb is sufficient to keep the critters from eating your socks and sweaters.

Proof Positive - Tanager

Day 223: Got him! Here's proof positive that I have a Western Tanager (Piranga ludoviciana) hanging around the yard. I've had glimpses of him in years past, glimpses and not much more, a flash of yellow and orange zipping past the kitchen window or perched on the far side of the contorted filbert and almost entirely obscured by leaves, unmistakeable for anything else but too elusive for my lens. Yesterday, I just happened to have my hand about three inches away from the camera when he landed on the shepherd's-hook outside the window. By the time I'd picked it up and was ready to snap his picture, he was gone. Surprisingly, he came back a few minutes later, enticed by the suet feeder which at that point was occupied by a different bird. Waiting his turn, he perched on the wind chime and...CLICK!...I had confirmation in the bag. Isn't he a beauty?

Black-headed Grosbeaks

Day 222: Step out on the back porch, and the sound of the chirps is deafening. Even inside, it's loud. Would I trade it for all the tea in China? Not on your life! I love my "parrots," both the Black-headed Grosbeaks (above, male on the left, female on the right) and the Evening Grosbeaks. They are out in full force, educating their young into the fine art of getting my attention when the feeders are running low. "See? If you sit next to the window and stare at her, she'll get up and bring more." Am I well-trained? Absolutely!

Both species (Pheucticus melanocephalus and Hesperiphona vespertinus) exhibit sexual dimorphism, i.e., males and females are different colours. The females' drab plumage make them less noticeable to predators. Young birds are also less brightly coloured than the adults. True feather colours come in with the first moult.

Setting Wheels In Motion

Day 221: Since coming to live at my house, the Kromski Minstrel spinning wheel I dubbed Bronka has produced three skeins of bamboo fingering weight yarn (beautiful stuff!) and one skein of wool. She's been a very busy girl! Nor has the Louet been idle. After finishing up some deliciously creamy Corriedale wool, I started on a blending mission, combining magenta and lavender Corriedale with a touch of white in a combination I call "raspberry yogurt." I'm spinning it using the woolen method which yields a fluffier, softer yarn than the worsted method, the latter being what I prefer when spinning specifically with knit socks in mind. There's always a trade-off somewhere. Worsted-spun is more durable, but less airy. Woolen-spun is softer, but tends to pill. It's all in planning ahead, knowing what the yarn will be used to make. In this case, the "raspberry yogurt" is destined to be a lap throw for those chilly winter mornings and evenings, and the green combi will be...yes, you guessed it...socks.

New Farseers

Day 220: It is said that patience is its own reward. For some time now, I have been accruing "rewards" points with a favourite store, and finally built up enough to invest in a new pair of farseers. My old ones have a broken eye cup, and are stamped "made in occupied Japan." That should give you a clue as to their age. Another issue with the old ones is that they don't flex far enough to fit my small face, meaning that I've always had to close one eye when looking through them. These snug down nicely to my pupillary distance. The new pair is also a bit stronger and has a slightly wider field, not excessively so, but rather just perfect for birding. They also give an image which is somewhat sharper. Good optics are important when it comes to identifying birds in the field, and I am quite pleased with these.

Hoya Fitchii

Day 219: Hoya fitchii is doing his thing again, and although the flower heads aren't as big as those on Hoya carnosa, what they lack in size is more than balanced by the striking colour. Hoyas come in an astonishingly wide assortment of foliage types, and a good selection of flower hue as well, although all on the "warm" side of the spectrum. Some produce open heads with only a few individual blossoms. Others may display clusters 4-6 inches across. Some species have flowers which emerge from leaf axils, but other varieties (like Fitch) carry their blooms on the ends of spurs. Foliage may be mottled, variegated, smooth, fuzzy, round and short, long and pointed, and it may climb supports, drape over its planter or creep along the ground. Some bloom once a year, and others may flower intermittently over three seasons. Not all of them bloom readily, though. Of the seven species in my small collection, two have never flowered, but I remain hopeful that some day, they'll surprise me.

Medlar Flower

Day 218: I fully expected the medlar tree to drop its buds after planting, but almost every tip now has a flower, and I'm hoping there are enough pollinators around to do the job. Technically, I suppose I shouldn't allow it to set fruit for a couple of years, but medlars are more vigorous than better-known fruit trees like apples, pears, peaches and such, so I think I'm simply going to let Nature take her course. Obviously, there won't be enough for a batch of jelly, but I can either freeze the juice to add to next year's crop, or I can eat medlars. Yes, the fruit of this unusual tree is edible, although most people cringe at the thought of eating it when it has turned to mush. It is actually quite tasty, somewhat honeyed, perhaps with notes of apple or rose. The texture is similar to that of persimmon, another oddity which has varieties suitable for the Pacific Northwest.

Aptly Named "Cleavers"

Day 217: Galium odoratum is one of several Bedstraws which go by the common name of "Cleavers," and how aptly named they are! When in fruit, these plants carry dozens of small, round burrs which cling tenaciously to socks, boot laces and flannel shirt cuffs, to say nothing of attaching themselves to animal fur which assists in their transport to new locations. Galium odoratum is a non-native species, identifiable by the number of leaves in the whorl. Ten native Galium species are known to occur in Washington, as well as four which were introduced from Europe. Galium odoratum is fragrant, hence its alternative common name, "Sweet-scented Bedstraw."

Scrubby Is Back!

Day 216: Scrubby is back! For the last few years, a California Scrub-jay has been showing up at my feeders as their range expands northwards. I was familiar with the species from seeing them on southwest Washington prairies, and when the first one showed up here about ten years ago, I wrote it off as an "occasional." Perhaps I was a bit too precipitous in that assessment, because they seem to now be one of my regulars, although they come and go throughout the season. This particular subspecies (Aphelocoma californica immanis) tends to be a bit more drab than A. californica californica, with more brown on the back. It is also somewhat larger than the birds found in California. The strong "eyebrow," less prominent in females, tells me that this bird is a male. Now why couldn't he have arrived in time for Big Day?

Centaurea Montana

Day 215: Quite a sizeable number of plants we now think of as weeds are in fact escapees from gardens. They become "weedy" when they spread beyond manicured spaces, and may find themselves listed as "invasive" when there are no natural predators to control them. My mother's flower bed hosted a large clump of Centaurea montana (aka Bachelor's Buttons) which as a child, I adored. They never crept out of bounds, didn't spring up spontaneously in neighbours' yards, nor did they reseed in our own landscaping. When I moved here, I discovered them growing on the road verge not far from home so, thinking in terms of free ornamentals, I loaded the shovel in the car and lifted a clump to add to the Barren Wasteland between the house and garage. I am pleased to say that they have never extended themselves beyond their allotted space, and therefore are not a "weed" as far as I am concerned.

Veronica Persica

Day 214: I find it very hard to use the word "weed" when discussing Veronica persica because its cheery blue faces are such bright spots amid the dandelion mop-tops and coarse grass which passes for "lawn" at my house, but unfortunately, this little plant is non-native and therefore deserving of the epithet. To its credit, it is not considered an invasive except in certain agricultural venues, none of which exist in this area. It may also be called "Speedwell," owing to the medicinal properties attributed to it. It can be included in salves for irritated skin, and a tea made of its leaves is said to alleviate stomach ulcers, although it is also diuretic. I prefer to let it grow, where it soothes my eyes with its simple beauty.

Smiley

Day 213: Who could resist getting up close and personal with that cute li'l smile? While I was down on my hands and knees conversing with Smiley, he kept tasting the air with his tongue, presumably trying to determine whether or not I was a predator. I assured him that I meant no harm, and after I'd captured his portrait, he allowed me to pass by without slithering off into the brush. Thamnophis sirtalis, our common Garter Snake, is harmless. They come with a variety of stripe colours (yellow, red, blue or even green) and can be as much as 3-4 feet long. Smiley had some bends and I couldn't quite see the tip of his tail, but I'd guess he was on the high end of that range, and if not the largest example I've ever seen, but definitely respectable in size. His diet consists of a variety of things, including slugs, snails, mice and worms, so garter snakes in your garden are a good thing. When the weather is warm, they may hide out beneath flower pots, under bits of wood or in other shady shelter, but since they are cold-blooded, they often seek out spots of sun in which to warm themselves for the day's activities.

Lychnis Flos-cuculi, Ragged Robin

Day 212: Global Big Day may have been a bust (I only recorded 15 species), but at least I had a Ragged Robin. Thanks to one of my sisters-of-the-heart, I now have several growing in a large flower pot just outside the kitchen door. She sent me the seeds, but I rather suspect that the Juncoes found them to their liking since only a few rosettes developed. They did not form flowers last year, but this year, they are lush with buds. Lychnis flos-cuculi may also be called Silene flos-cuculi. Although it is an introduced species and has naturalized in the eastern US, it is not considered invasive, and is a popular addition to "wild" gardens. Pink or not, I'm happy to give Ragged Robin a home in my yard. As for the poor turnout for my Big Day, I'm blaming sunspots.

Aurorae

Day 211: The camera registered colours my eyes could barely perceive, but even what was visually apparent was the most spectacular aurora borealis I've experienced in my entire lifetime. The entire sky was filled with curtains and streamers, east to west, north to south, green and red and white. They changed gradually, almost imperceptibly, fading from view in one minute, returning over the next five, sometimes blocking stars and sometimes studded with them. I'd been getting up every hour to check, but it was not until 1:15 AM that the show started. I could not pull myself away despite the nip in the early morning air, and spent almost an hour and a half observing the phenomenon. It was only when the last streamers had paled that I went inside and crawled under the electric blanket to take the chill out of my legs and hands. Worth losing sleep over? Absolutely! And if there's a second act tonight, I'll be out there.

Addendum: You get a bonus today. Sunspot AR3664 (the culprit) can be seen in the lower left quadrant.

Iris Tenax, Oregon Flag

Day 210: Also known commonly as Oregon Flag or Toughleaf Iris, lovely little Iris tenax is native to Washington and is found primarily in the oak woodlands of the state's southwestern prairies. That's why I pulled up short yesterday when I found it alongside one of Pack Forest's less travelled roads. There were two fully open specimens and one bud, plus several clumps of stiff, short-bladed leaves spaced along a distance of roughly ten feet. None were in evidence anywhere else during my hike. I don't think there's a single oak tree anywhere in Pack, so the appearance of this plant raises the question of how it got there, especially since it is rhizomatous. Could a rhizome have been caught in the tread of some piece of machinery and dropped off at this site? That seems a bit of a stretch, although some means of transport must have brought seeds of my other find for the day: Spotted Jewelweed, a serious invasive. It was also alongside the road, and only covered about 25 square feet. For a brief second, I wondered if my own boots had been the medium until I remembered that I'm always in water sandals in Jewelweed country because I'm surveying by kayak. Malignant or benign, plants can be carried from one location to another when root fragments or seeds are introduced deliberately or accidentally.

Double The Fun

Day 209: I had a little problem a while back when I tried to close the cedar chest. It was so full of wool and handspun that I had to sit on the lid and then weight it with a couple of boxes to keep it down. A phrase I use often when I'm down to the last of something came to mind, and I said aloud, "Why am I archiving this?" and thus the seeds of several new projects were sown. First of all, I pulled out a couple of bags of bamboo fiber and set to spinning it into fingering weight yarn. Next, I grabbed three differently coloured bags of wool top and my blending board for spinning a heathered worsted weight. You'd have thought the diminution might have put a dent in the stockpile, but it merely gave it room to expand. I was going to have to take desperate measures in order to reduce the bulk. But what? The brainstorm hit a few nights ago: weave a wool throw using 8/2 cotton warp and the "double-width" technique on my table loom. I checked my inventory (I record fiber, yards and weight, and calculate yards per ounce on a spreadsheet) and found that I had more than enough "cinnamon twist" for a lap robe. This one is likely destined to be a donation to my favourite environmental group's annual auction, but there's another huge bag of grey Gotland wool waiting in the wings.

American Goldfinch, Spinus Tristis

Day 208: The Goldfinches (Spinus tristis) are almost in full "bloom" now, having exchanged their drab winter colouration for summer's yellow plumage. They're still a bit pale, but even the females have taken on the greenish cast which makes them easy to pick out in a crowd of LGBs ("little grey birds"). In flight, there's no mistaking a Goldfinch. They fly like they're hanging bunting or a Christmas swag, in swooping dips followed by a peak which pins the top of the pattern: swoop, pin, swoop, pin, swoop, at last coming to rest on a branch or wire. As a human who has hiked trails like that, I can assure you that it has nothing to do with energy conservation, this going downhill just to climb back up again. So why has this flight pattern been selected for in their genes? Some bird species exhibit the same trait, but others are straight-line fliers, never losing altitude until it's time to land. There must be some advantage yet to be proposed by science for the swag-like flight of these golden ornaments of the sky.

Mourning Dove, Zenaida Macroura

Day 207: You could almost mistake their coo for the hoot of an owl, these Mourning Doves. Although as a general rule, I don't have much use for anything even remotely resembling a pigeon, Zenaida macroura is not obnoxious. They don't overwhelm the feeders. In fact, they clean up the ground after the smaller birds are through sorting for the choicest seeds. They perch politely on the fence rails and overhead wires, engaging in soft conversation and waiting their turn. Not so the blasted Band-tailed Pigeons which arrive shortly on the heels of the Evening Grosbeaks, their minute pigeon brains keying in on the grosbeaks' mapping system. I spend a lot of time rushing at the windows to chase the Band-taileds away, but the Mourning Doves are welcome. That said, an occasional undesirable look-alike shows up: the Eurasian Collared-dove. The Collared-dove is lighter in colour, and has a small patch of black on the back of the neck. The black "collar" is not always evident unless the bird has its neck extended.

October Medlar, Nefle De October

Day 206: The French varietal name had me puzzled. For one thing, I couldn't say it even after listening to Google Translate's robot repeating it multiple times, but I was surprised to see that "Nefle" was actually in its dictionary. It means...yep, you guessed it..."medlar." This, therefore, is the "October Medlar," which gives a clue as to when the fruit is fully developed. Note that I say "developed" as opposed to "ready for use," because medlars must have begun to decompose before they are edible. They should be left on the tree until a few hard frosts have occurred, or until they begin to drop naturally. That said, the story behind these two photos is that the friend who has supplied me with medlars in the past will be moving away this summer. In order to "keep medlar love alive" (as another friend put it), I took cuttings from her tree, hoping to propagate it from slips and/or grafts, but obviously, that puts picking medlars pretty far down the road. As a backup, I began searching for an affordable tree, and I wasn't having much luck. Behind the scenes, yet another friend was searching as well, and to my great astonishment, came up with a nursery within reasonable driving distance which had two varieties: Nefle de October and Breda Giant, both as two-year old grafted plants in one-gallon pots, and at half the price of the foot-long bare-root cuttings I'd found on my own. I called the nursery early Saturday morning, and headed out to be on their doorstep when they opened. Nefle de October is a mid-sized fruit, as opposed to Breda Giant. The "giant" varieties tend to be less flavourful, so I picked out a 3.5' tall Nefle which will go in the ground later this week. I keep telling myself that at my age, it's probably pointless to hope for enough fruit for a batch of jelly before I'm too old to make it, but the planting geas comes strong upon me when spring is in the air, a call I must obey.

Hoya Carnosa

Day 205: But for the fact that mine has variegated foliage, this is your good old standard "Wax Plant," Hoya carnosa. The flower heads tend to be significantly larger than any of my other less common species, and the individual "stars" are almost 3/4" across. This species is also more fragrant, filling the air above my customary chair with its perfume, particularly in the morning and evening hours. Hoyas have a reputation for being indestructible. While that's not entirely true (I've lost a few over the years), they do tend to tolerate neglectful watering, although bloom production will be affected. Some species flower more readily than others, and at different times of the year.

Global Big Day

Day 204: You can celebrate Star Wars Day if that's your thing, or I might have been inclined to join you in observing World Naked Gardening Day if the weather hadn't turned both wet and cold, but what we're really excited about around here is that Global Big Day is only a week away! Yes, May 11th is circled on my calendar, and I have my checklist printed out. No, I won't be travelling to the far reaches. I'll just be standing at my window ticking off species at the feeders. I don't expect this year to break the record of 29 due to the fact that few of the migrants have arrived yet, but if I'm lucky, I might see twenty. When it comes right down to it, that's pretty respectable for a backyard bird-a-thon.

Let's Propagate!

Day 203: When a Parkie friend announced that she and her family were contemplating a move, I realized that I would no longer have access to medlars from her tree. I have not yet perfected the art of making medlar jelly, and don't know anyone else with a tree, so I asked her if I could take some slips. I did some research, came up with a couple of possible propagation methods, one of which involved grafting medlar scions onto either hawthorn or quince rootstock, both of which I have in the yard. It's been many, many years since I did a graft, so I reviewed the technique and went visiting with secateurs in hand. Two things were operating against me, though. The first was that they had pruned the tree of almost all the one-year wood. The second was that the new wood was all very small in diameter and would be difficult to graft. As a backup plan, I took cuttings, dipped them in rooting hormone and stuck them down in prepared medium. As anticipated, the grafting did not go well, but the slips appear to be in good shape. Time will tell if they hold their terminal leaves and form roots. In any event, it will be years before I can try making medlar jelly again.

Peony In Bud

Day 202: It's the time of year when everybody posts pictures of peony buds, so far be it from me to miss the opportunity to jump on the bandwagon. My peonies came with the house, one of very few ornamentals to be found in the overgrown flower beds. The roots were buried so deeply that they never would have bloomed. In fact, I only found them while digging out weeds. Once lifted to the proper planting depth (partially exposed to sunlight), they rewarded me with the blood-red blossoms which had been my father's favourites. Over the years, I shifted them from one location to another until they found a final home beneath the east living room window where I can admire them while watching the birds at the feeders. Even after the flowers have shed their petals, the foliage remains lush until autumn.

May Day 'Quet

Day 201: There are only a few occasions when I cut flowers from my garden to bring indoors, and May Day is one of them. When I was in elementary school, the custom of leaving May baskets on friends' and neighbours' porches was still in common practice. We usually made the baskets at school, sometimes simply making cones, other times weaving paper strips together. We'd fill them with whatever we could purloin, ostensibly from our parents' gardens, but often as not, they included things we'd snitched elsewhere, and nearly always, the baskets were augmented by dandelions or other flowering weeds. The idea was that you would hang the basket on your neighbour's front doorknob, ring or knock, and then run away to hide behind a bush or the corner of the house. The neighbour was always expected to exclaim, "Oh, someone has left us flowers!" or other appropriate phrase, as if they had forgotten the day entirely. It was such a simple gesture of thoughtfulness and friendly remembrance, but somehow the practice has faded into near-oblivion today. So, because I cannot knock on your door, my May basket for you comes as a photograph. Happy May Day!