May notes
I was walking home from work last week, and noticed something…
May is white (and green). Daisies… oxeye daisies… ramsons… hawthorn… rowan… elder… horse chestnut… cow parsley. The pinks and pale blues of early spring are on the wane; cherry blossom scatters the ground, bluebells are fading to papery versions of themselves.
The towpath, the park, the fields and hedgerows are fizzing with small, starry, luminous flowers. It’s as though a touch paper of magnesium has been lit and is burning white through the landscape. These sparks, once they burn out, will ignite an explosion of summer colour. Suddenly there’ll be a million shades of red and purple, orange and yellow - rich and deeply-pigmented as a Van Gogh painting.
Looking out of the bedroom window across the valley, I’ve been surprised at just how much hawthorn dots the fields. Clouds of white everywhere.
In the woods behind the house, the trees - so leafless just a few weeks ago - are now verdant and scented with blossom.
My birthday’s coming up. And it’s a big one. But, being an introvert, the thought of a big party isn’t an appealing one. Having just returned from our Canada trip, I’m happy to spend the day just over the hill in Rossendale: visiting old haunts, lunch in the tearoom at Holden Vale, just mooching about with no real schedule.
My camera’s saving photographs again now I changed the memory card. For a moment I thought it was a major problem which might require an expensive repair or a complete replacement, so: relief. And today being cooler and overcast, I planned to retrace my steps in Luddenden (a walk I did last week) and retake all those pictures which didn’t save last time.
But I noticed our little black cat wasn’t right this morning: she was covered in mud, not interested in eating (a big red flag - she loves her food), and there were bloodstains where she’d been lying. So we went to the vet and it turns out she’s probably been attacked by another cat (I know which one - it’s a thug) and torn her paw pad trying to run away. So she has an abscess and is now on painkillers and antibiotics, and hopefully it’ll heal without the need for stitches…
So instead, before our appointment with the vet, I walked up and down the lane outside and spent twenty minutes or so capturing some of the May prettiness right here on our doorstep.
Yesterday I took the train into Halifax. It’s a very quick journey, only two stations away, and whilst shopping I stumbled across a Polish delicatessen up a side street. It was big inside, and stocked all kinds of lovely things like cheesecakes (there was a bakery counter) and so many breads, big jars of Krakus pickles - the best brand there is - and lots of cheeses and cooked meats.
So I ended up weighted down with a bag of goodies: a huge slab of poppyseed cheesecake, a lovely loaf of rye bread, kabanos sausage (for Joe), Katarzynki biscuits and yes - a jar of fat gherkins. It took me right back to childhood.
I need to return for supplies regularly now I know it’s there…
To me, the smell of hawthorn blossom always heralds this time of year. But walking this morning, the perfumed honeysuckle winding through the hedgerows was heavenly too.
The garden’s thriving, despite there having been no rain for weeks now. I’m looking forward to showers: downpours even, to replenish the ground and reinvigorate the plants and flowers. As my gourds and pumpkins grow, they’ll be thirsty…
We have a busy weekend ahead of us, filled with home things and celebrations, wanderings and seasonal delights. Two more weeks of May to go, and I’ll be savouring them.
Thank you for reading.
Sarah.