Beltane

It's hard to really capture the feeling of an English spring day. Wet grass and blossom, the musk-and-decay scent of hawthorn, bright overcast skies reflecting on puddles. The treacherous twist of fresh mud under your feet. Cheap waterproofs clinging to your back, and the haze in the distance that rises up from the soaking earth. I love this time of year, before summer staggers in, blowsy and parched; it's so full of promise, secret as the leaves.