Probably no May Day baskets filled with goodies will be waiting on my doorstep today, but you never know. I thought about posting the history of May Day here, but everybody does that. So, instead, here is a short excerpt from HIT THE ROAD, JAKE, book 3 the in The Lindsey Lark romantic mystery saga. It just happens to be about May Day, sort of. It is from written from Jake’s point of view.

Lindsey jumped in. “There might be a connection between our thief, the rhyme, the chopped down nut trees and the basket. It’s a long shot, for sure, but perhaps the basket was meant to represent May Day.” She pulled out a sheet of paper and began to read her own research notes: “Folklore states that on May 1 baskets were filled with nuts, flowers, and sometimes cheese treats and left at the door of a friend, a special friend. The doorbell was rung and then the giver would dash away. Next step? The receiver tries to catch the giver and, if that happens, a kiss is exchanged.”

As Lindsey and I thought out loud with our back and forth questions and comments, Bud listened attentively, his head turning like a trained seal as he tried to keep up with our ping-ponging ideas.

“So, our thief is not only using the House That Jack Built rhyme but also other folk traditions. Coincidence?” I wondered.

Lindsey added, “Maybe he or she was hoping to act out this little mini-scenario. That seems like a lot of trouble to just get a kiss, though. Who would normally exit that door first during a fire evacuation?”

Bud had an answer he was anxious to tell. “That would be our attendance tech, if she was still there; she’s a half-time employee. She’d hold the door open for the kids that exit out that way. And, oh boy. She’s a looker. I don’t think anybody would mind a little peck on the cheek from her, if you get my drift.” I didn’t, but what did it matter?

Lindsey was truly in her element now, but, between Bud and his comments and all this folktale business, my patience was being tested. My own annoying habits surfaced: I tapped my pencil rhythmically on my notepad like it was a drumstick, my uninjured foot performed an anxious, unstoppable bounce that traveled all the way up my leg, and I scratched my head.  Yes, I knew myself well.

I hope you enjoy your May Day,

Cricket

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