Chapter One

It was a warm breezy spring day as I strolled down the road in a silent methodical trance. The trees were so brilliant in colors of reds, pinks and white, and waved in the breeze as petals fell to the ground. Birds were singing in the trees as though they had their own choir, truly a unique sound.

I walked along reminiscing, chuckling to myself to some thoughts and shedding a tear at others. I was interrupted by children playing as they hurried home from school, if they only knew the trials and tribulations that were in store for them in the coming years.

They reminded me of some of my childhood days and soon I was lost, once again in tranquility. I came to a small clearing with a long driveway leading to a beautiful white colonial style house. The driveway was lined on both sides with various bright colors of all kinds of flowers. What a gorgeous bouquet of flowers these would make for the dining room table or better yet, a May basket to the elderly.

Then I remembered the May Day celebration we had in grade school, dancing around the May Pole to music and singing. May Day was a May 1st tradition originating in Great Britain by dancing and singing around a maypole, tied with colorful streamers. The children celebrated the day by moving back and forth holding the streamers and weaving them around the pole. We would make flower baskets and hang them on the doors of the elderly, knock on their door and then run so they wouldn't know who hung it there. This was a tradition that somewhere along the way got lost in the shuffle, what a shame; so many childhood traditions have been lost.

I saw a big flat rock ac

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