bread and roses

...Or, wildflowers. Today is May Day, one of the holidays I really hope George enjoys as he gets older. I'm thrilled with any occasion that combines doorbell ditching, flowers and workers' rights (okay, I've cobbled together two separate holidays that fall on the same day -- efficiency!). Using this tutorial, we made some little seed bombs

and using George's teensy fingertips, we made some cards.

Technically, we should've distributed our presents on doorsteps this morning before people woke, but pancakes were calling and assembly wasn't finished, so everyone will have to cut us a break this year.

Here is my virtual offering to you: James Oppenheim's poem, which always gets me teary:

As we come marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill-lofts gray 
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing, "Bread and Roses, Bread and Roses."

As we come marching, marching, we battle, too, for men--
For they are women's children and we mother them again. 
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes--
Hearts starve as well as bodies: Give us Bread, but give us Roses!

As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient song of Bread;
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew--
Yes, bread we fight for--but we fight for Roses, too.

As we come marching, marching, we bring the Greater Days--
The rising of the women means the rising of the race--
No more the drudge and idler--ten that toil where one reposes--
But sharing of life's glories: Bread and Roses, Bread and Roses!