We often go walking at the weekend and for holidays too, for that matter. This week’s excursion was one of the local walks that we regularly do, which is pleasant walking and always full of photographic possibilities-how can the village often described as England’s prettiest-not be? But today I concentrated on the wild flowers and meadows. The buttercups are in full flower and this looks like it’s going to yield good hay soon.
There is not a hedgerow in England without May blossom-hawthorn, that is. It’s all going over now, but never fails to may me think of the Tennyson’s poem, The May Queen.
And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill,
And the rivulet in the flowery dale ’ill merrily glance and play,
For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May.