Now is the month of maying, When merry lads are playing, Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la. Each with his bonny lass, Upon the greeny grass, Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la. The Spring, clad all in gladness, Doth laugh at Winter’s sadness, Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la. Fie then! Why sit we musing, Youth’s sweet delight refusing? Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la. Say, dainty nymphs, and speak, Shall we play barley break? Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la la. THINKING ABOUT AND ALLOWING MYSELF to soak in the idea of May, I unconsciously began to hum “Now is the Month of Maying.” The 16th-century Thomas Morley ballett was one I learned in the fifth grade at Brooke Hill School for Girls to be performed at our May Day celebration. Though I later learned of the bawdy double entendres of some of the lyrics, as I sing the song today, I find myself transported to that innocent, magical, sunny day. On cue, my friends and I each grasped our assigned glossy pastel ribbon to commence our Maypole dance. Dancing and weaving our ribbons in and out as we’d practiced to perfection, we reveled in the sheer joy of skipping and watching as our efforts contributed to an increasingly beautiful, ordered pattern around the Maypole. All this was on the heels of my being grounded the night before, for the entire weekend, after having talked back to my mother. I was devastated and angry, as only a 10-year-old girl can be when denied her cherished spend-the-night plans. Yet I all but forgot my misery for a little while, singing and gleefully skipping on that bright green May Day.
Recently, I’ve been hearing people (artists, musicians, designers, influencers, etc.) apologize and confess feelings of guilt for posting, embracing, creating beautiful things while the war rages in Ukraine. They voice concerns of being/seeming superficial in the midst of tragedy and trauma. But I believe beauty is life-giving and creativity is our birthright—and we need these things now more than ever. They stir our souls and transport us to a place where we, if only for an hour or even a moment, transcend the mire and muck of this fallen world. Whether experiencing something as enormous as the heartbreaking reality of the ravages of war or as small as the disappointment in the deprivation of spend-the-night company, there is a balm—and it is beauty in all its forms. I hope this issue, with its many expressions of beauty, offers you a bit of a reprieve in these days. Love and SDG,
Margot Shaw EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Please send your comments, triumphs, challenges & questions to: wateringcan@flowermag.com OR: Letters to the Editor Flower magazine I P.O. Box 530645 I Birmingham, AL 35253 Get the Flower email newsletter! Sign up at flowermag.com/news
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FLOWER
May•June 2022
PORTRAIT BY BETH HONTZAS; ILLUSTRATION BY OLESHKO GANNA/SHUTTERSTOCK.COM
Watering can
A Note from the Editor
