When I was a young girl in West Michigan , we always celebrated spring and the blooming of the first flowers on May 1. I’d make a basket out of construction paper and fill it with any flowers I could find—mostly daffodils and violets. Then I would place the basket on my neighbor’s doorstep, knock on her door, and quickly hide behind a bush. I’d peek out to watch her as she opened the door and picked up her surprise. When she went inside, I’d run home. Memories Frozen in Time