May Baskets

Once again time has gotten away from me.  May 1st was May Day.  I guess it means something different here in the U.S. than in Russia.
When I was a young child, my Mother introduced my little sister and I to the idea of making a May basket.  There was a lady who lived in a small cottage up the road from us.  She was English-I think perhaps she had been a war bride from WW2 and her U.S.
husband had died.  She had an elderly lady living with her,  whom she called Auntie, though she was not related to her.  I think the
woman had no relatives of her own to care for her .  I don't know how she came to be with Mrs. Gray, our neighbor.  Mrs. Gray was
totally giving her life to the care of the sometimes uncooperative and always mischievous old lady.  
So Mother told us how nice it would be if Mrs. Gray found an unanticipated basket hanging on her door the morning of May 1st.
There are no flowers growing in the gardens in New England on
May 1st.  So Mother took us into the woods, where we found, hidden beneath the dry leaves, tiny woodland violets, their wee
blue faces peeping out to find a sunbeam.  There were white ones too, a bit taller , making them easier to find, yet just as sweet.
Also there was a stand of glorious pink Lady slippers.  We did not know then that one day they would be near extinct.  A type of wild orchid, they hung from a tall stem, a delicate pink shape of a bedroom slipper made for a fairy.  We only picked a few--we
should not have picked any, but as I said, we were unaware of the threat to their future.
Mother found a small wicker basket which we filled with some damp moss.  Then we placed our woodland bouquet inside, the
broken ends of the stems secured in the moist  bedding.
Now it seems the trick was to hang the basket when no one was
looking, knock on the door, run and hide, to watch the discovery.
My little sister kept look-out.  I ran to the door, fastened the basket by it's ribbon to the knob, rapped quickly and ran.  We didn't wait to see Mrs. Gray come to the door.  We felt almost scared!
Later that day Mrs. Gray called my Mother on the phone to tell
her about the wonderful surprise--the dear little  May basket of flowers that "some fairies" must have left for her.  My sister and I
couldn't stop giggling.  We had gotten away with it!  Of course we
knew years later that Mrs Gray knew all along the source of her May basket.  Why else would she have called our Mother?