The phonetic syllables /mey dey/ are rife with meaning.

As a child, I envisioned "May Day" much in the manner in which Renaissance Faire players open and close the faire day: with costumed dancers weaving around a flower-and-ribbon-festooned pole, creating intricate patterns in both ribbon and step as they pass over and under each other, turning around and around and around. At some point along that axis, the vision of morris dancing entered the picture, as well as hunting, flower gathering, and so on. In short, May Day had entered the common vernacular as a more meaningful celebration of spring than the vernal equinox itself. (Then again, how many buds, leaves, blooms, and blossoms do we see around St. Patrick's Day?)

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Après moi, le déluge.

In Genesis Chapter 9, G-d commands Noach to build a watertight vessel and to stock it with all species of life known to man. Following this interchange, the earth was subjected to forty days and forty nights of rain, sufficient to wash all living things -- except for those ensconced in the ark -- from the earth.

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Kerri's tweet yesterday about the nice weather got me started on the childhood rhymes and singing games we used to amuse ourselves with as children. Sometimes a jump rope, jacks, or one of those pink Spaulding ("Pennsy-Pinky") balls were involved, and sometimes it was just kids singing and following a set pattern of hand jives or other moves.

So, in ode to the spring, and in remembrance of the "A my name is" crostic rhyme:

A my A1c is under six and that's OK,
B is for blood glucose measured sev'ral times a day.
C is for cholesterol and calories and carbs.
D is diabetic -- it's a word and not a barb.
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