MAY DAYS: “Spring comes slowly where I grew up in the hills of
northern Pennsylvania along the New York state border. The mountain
snow lingers in bits and patches while the ice along the edges of
the rushing stream cutting through our valley reluctantly gives way
in April. But the best proof of all for us children that spring had
actually come was the arrival of the leeks and the mayflowers!”

So writes Shirley Donan of Grove City, an article titled, “May
Day in the Enchanted Mountains.”

Shirley writes about two familiar sights at this time of year –
leeks and those delicate little Mayflowers which are already in
bloom.

The article, which appeared in the Pittsburgh Post Gazette’s, is
uniquely McKean County so we decided to print it over two days,
today and tomorrow.

We’re at the height of leek-eating season at the moment – East
Bradford’s annual Stinkfest is this Saturday – so we figured it
would be appropriate to tell you about Shirley’s memory of May in
our “enchanted mountains.”

Shirley goes on:

“We could scarcely wait to rush into the hills to see bright
green leeks peeping through the leaves on the forest floor. The
earth smelled woodsy and damp as we dug up these wild onions and
threw them into our baskets.

“Mild, sweet and tender, we simply couldn’t get enough of them.
Everyone in the village looked forward to this feast every spring!
We would arrive home from the hill, late afternoon, all smudged
with forest dirt, leaves in our hair, smelling of leeks, but how
good they tasted with Mother’s delicious dinners. The family sat
together daily for this evening ritual: Dad at one end of the
table, Mother at the other, and my aunt, uncle, visiting cousins,
and we three little Mayes sisters along either side.

“One day, however, our first-grade teacher, Miss Hertzog, warned
all of us not to eat leeks and come to school. The after-effects
from feasting on these little powerhouses left a lingering aroma
that permeated even the wood of our desks, or so it seemed. Sadly
enough, one nice sunny day, two poor little leek eaters were sent
home in disgrace. The rest of the class was mortified as the
teacher opened the windows to air out the room. We still ate our
leeks, but only the weekends.”