As children, my sisters and I usually made our May baskets out of Dixie cubs or some other small container, added pipe-cleaner handles, and filled them with penny candy and fresh flowers (mostly candy). Mom typed out little notes saying who the basket was from and we tucked the paper among the goodies. Then came the fun. Mom drove us around town and we took turns leaving the baskets on doorsteps, ringing the bell and running back to where Mom had parked around the corner.
Now the kids are grown and the grandkids live too far away, so I don't celebrate May Day anymore. But I still have the urge to make and deliver some baskets. Maybe to a nursing home? Maybe to total strangers? Maybe to you...