The bells of May

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A spiritual comment and prayer to start the day with Rabbi Jonathan Wittenberg Good Morning. Maigloeckchen, she called them in her native German, ‘the bells of May’, lily of the valley. My grandmother loved them, and I do too, with their modest, sweet-scented flowers. May Day was traditionally considered the halfway point between the spring equinox and the summer solstice. On the first of the month, the Old Farmer’s Almanac says, one welcomes the spring by ‘Bringing in the May’ with branches of magnolia, redbud, lilac, or other local blooms. I shall do as instructed, since it’s my wife’s birthday. And we’ll keep ‘no mow May’ in our garden, and through June and July too, to help the wildflowers, butterflies and birds. ‘Think global, act local,’ runs the strapline. What with biodiversity loss, red lists, amber lists, and extinctions, thinking global can numb the brain. So it’s good to remember that acting local still matters. Every species rescued means a world less impoverished, and, who knows, maybe our bug hotel, bird feeder or hedgehog highway helped make the difference. We need to love them more: woodlands, parks, gardens, roadside verges, and the lonely trees in the concrete. Amitav Ghosh recounts in his brilliant The Nutmeg’s Curse how fellow author Robin Kimmemer congratulated her indigenous guide for his comprehensive knowledge of the names of the local plants. ‘”Yes,” the guide nods and replies with downcast eyes. “Yes, I have learnt the names of all the bushes, but I have yet to learn the songs.” His words remind me of a beautiful saying by Rebbe Nachman of Breslav: ‘Not a plant but sings to the spirit its unique melody’. May our hearts be opened to hear those melodies.