I fall in love with the world again every May. It is such a beautiful month.
The trees are all in leaf by now, but the leaves are still tender, so green, almost translucent. The woods and hedgerows are full of bluebells, probably the most beautiful blue in the world. And they are complimented and highlighted by the other wildflowers accompanying them: red campion, buttercups, Queen Anne's lace, stitchwort, lady's smock. And the lushness of the grass!
The skies are blue and full of sun which shimmers on the fields of buttercups. The sweet, faery scent of hawthorn entices from every hedgerow. The joyous chatter of swallows and martens, the rich fluid song of blackbird and thrush. Apple blossoms flutter in the breeze, and the bees drink deeply from their abundance.
In the garden the vegetables seem to grow with each passing day, and in the flower borders welsh poppies, irises, forget-me-nots and columbines harmonise tones of yellow, purple, lilac and blue.
The world is in love with life at this time of year, its beauty heart-stopping. Oh yes, I love May. How could I not?