The Big, Beautiful May Poem

Cuckoos, swifts, bright green, petrichor

Here we are at the end of magical May! And so it is time for our Big Beautiful Poem of the Month. For the uninitiated, we do this every month: I gather up all of the comments you have left me each week outlining the little seasonal bits and bobs you are seeing, and I strong them all together to make a satisfying month out of them. It just kind of works.

Apologies for the lack of me reading them out these last couple of months. I am just very pushed for work time and struggling to fit it in. You will have to read it out yourself, perhaps.

Anyway, no further ado. Here it is, the Big, Beautiful May Poem:

Lilies of the valley have returned, and this week's veg bag had a celeriac - it felt like a very French May Day with the lilies, sunshine, and celeriac remoulade for lunch

Beltane Eve dancing around flames in the back garden with my little boy. We toasted marshmallows and walked around the fire-pit holding hands, blessing the past season and welcoming the new. And we danced like wild savages! It was tribal and connecting and more than a little smoky

The days have been bookended by cuckoos and nightingales

The horse chestnuts are magnificent and the hawthorn has flowered beautifully for May Day

Bringing in a posy of muguet (lily of the valley) to celebrate May Day. And cascades of fragrant wisteria scenting the evening air

A walk onto the moors, the most perfect sunset, hearing my first cuckoo of the year, the meadow pipits have returned, and finally a pit stop at the pub on the way home

The cotton grass is opening up on the moors. Tufts of white stretching for miles

A big splash of yellow on the end of a fallen tree is a new growth of ‘Chicken of the Woods’ fungus

A Mayday return of the swifts! Two perfect sickles reacquainting themselves with their suburban summer home

Here in Southcentral Alaska the Trumpeter Swans won first place in returning north followed by the Sandhill Cranes and then the Canadian Geese

The birds are singing. Swooping in and out of the trees

When I drew the curtain on a very early misty morning there curled up on my neighbours roof was a small ball of russet fur

‘Our’ swifts are back

White flowers: hawthorn, cow parsley and lily of the valley

Wading out into the loch at 7am, the deep cold of the water and the morning air chill, but the promise of a glorious sunny day to come

The hummingbirds have returned, much thunder, lightning and rain to the parched earth

Bluebirds and tufted titmice flutter through lush new leaves. A trio of turkeys chortle past. Then the awesome azure of an indigo bunting, gone as quickly as it arrived, as if it knows it’s special

Harvesting dill from my herb garden, the first herbs of the season

Blossom blossom blossomy days walking in drifts of cow parsley jack in the hedge and wild garlic admiring the shades of new green leaves on the hawthorn and the flowering wonder of horse chestnut trees in white and red

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Asparagus with everything

Ducklings, avocets tending and turning their eggs, marsh harriers scoping gull nests and an osprey soaring above the reeds

Wood pigeons blissfully stripping and eating green elderflower blossom with complete, concentrated, contentment.

A crane chick in Gloucestershire. It appears so tiny, a little ginger ball of fluff beside the parents

The return of the cold north wind (begone with you!)

The swifts are screeching above and the last of the wild garlic is gathered. Already the tomato plants are blooming, so maybe there'll be an early harvest of tomatoes

Suddenly gaps are filling in with green. Lillypads are spreading across the pond at work

The tiny brown tree frogs are back and singing us to sleep at night

A dawn chorus walk in Ecclesall woods

Falling asleep in a Berlin hotel room with the window cracked open, I wondered whether the multiple bird calls I could hear were a recording being played to the neighborhood at large for some reason. It took a long time for my sleep deprived brain to figure out that what I was hearing was the first nightingale song I have heard in my life

We had a fire pit and marshmallows to honour beltane, and threw wishes written on bay leaves into the fire

I put my French beans and courgettes out too early during the warm weather, then they were touched by frost this week

An ephemeral feast fit for a king: freshly picked asparagus and morels. The flavor of fleeting spring

The air is filled with the tiny cottonwool fluff of willow, blowing in every open door and window

Carpets of buttercups, and a tiny frog in our pond (how do they get there?)

A fully leafed light emerald green beech hedge glowing in the sunshine

The glorious blue froth of the forget me nots fading to make way for purple alliums and pink bistorta while the swifts swoop and cry over head in a sky criss crossed with vapour trails

A bee is in my kitchen, so still. I touch it gently, a stir, give it honey water. It raises its little body on back legs and sips. Seconds pass. A buzz and off it flies

Baby lambs in Connemara

Our sidewalks are covered with fallen pink petals

I turned Merlin App on for 20 mins earlier and recorded over 20 different birds

Stopping and sniffing at each lilac bush that crosses my path

The smell of lilacs, the drone of the bees and the greenery everywhere

Walking along the Loire, cuckoos every day

I am visiting my sister in Rome. From my window a glorious ancient umbrella tree, its strong sinewy branches pushing upwards and outwards in a vast canopy of sheltering leaves. The swallows circle and weave and the honeysuckle perfumes the air

The elderflower is arriving. Half the buds open but some buds are still tightly closed

Birds are making their great migration. In the central U.S., the number of birds in flight showed up as precipitation on the weather radar! Here in North Carolina, the tiny neon yellow goldfinches have returned

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Resting beside the river after my own dappled woodland walk, I watched a mother duck guide her little ones upstream through gently tumbling water - all patience, concern and pride

Long soft evenings, following the moon - a momentary pang on realising we're within weeks of the summer solstice

My walks have been dry and dusty, leaving a grubby line when I remove my socks. The chit chit of a stonechat and a lone lapwing swoops and dips pee-wit pee-wit

Walking beneath swathes of hanging wisteria and breathing in the heady scent

On an evening nightingale walk we were lucky enough to hear turtle doves cooing in the woodland, and found ourselves saying 'oh those nightingales are so noisy'

A solid week of heavy rain relieved nearly a whole year of drought and suddenly the world is green

The edge of the North York moors. Hares, lambs, curlew, lapwing and oystercatcher all within a few feet of each other

Lying outside on starry nights, watching Ursa Major circle by, Arcturus blazing nearby. The space station zips over my head and my big fuzzy cat sleeps on my lap

The petals of the rowan tree fell all at once like snow

Everything is parched, the ground solid and dry

A colour shift in the garden, with roses, alliums and peonies bringing richer colours as the forget me nots fade

Deep red peonies in full blousy mode

Hundreds of banded demoiselles fluttering and sparkling in the sun

Everywhere so bright, green and fresh

A mug of asparagus hand delivered by mom, fresh from her garden

The green cherries are now as big as olive stones. Beneath them, a carpet of buttercups and daisies

Late afternoon walks in dappled light then drinking rose wine in the warm and sultry evening garden. I gather lemon balm for my tea and mint leaves to flavour supper

Welcoming the season of the vetch!

Midges and swallows playing chase along the riverside. There's a jackdaw nest in the chimney and every morning I wake to the chittering of the babies

The moose are busy up on our bluff giving birth to calves while overhead the robins, sparrows and chickadees are busy nesting

Planting out my tomatoes and that unmistakeable smell on my fingers

Swallows on Lough Corrib. They have travelled so far to get here

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I am doing No Mow May and I’ve got a swathe of buttercups and daisies and clover patches, a very lovely mini meadow

In my garden enjoying a bowl of porridge topped with allotment rhubarb stewed in orange and ginger, and saw my first hummingbird moth for this year, feasting on sweet rocket

Walking along the canal, a bright green canopy protecting us from the sun, delighted by ducklings

The short stretch of woods we walk regularly is already dark and gloomy but that means the Hart’s-tongue ferns are unfurling in earnest. Lots of tightly coiled new leaves starting their gentle unwind

I finally got to go to the Chelsea flower show and raised a glass of eye wateringly expensive Pimms in my mum’s memory

Face to face with a young adder while harvesting elderflower

A late evening long walk. We didn't get home until 9 and saw the sun going down behind a hill

The first roses, my favourite is ‘The Poet’s Wife’, a soft lemon flower that smells like sherbert

Much needed monsoon rain and thunderstorm. Refreshed body, mind, soul and garden

A successful hunt for morel mushrooms and wild leeks to cook over the campfire. Camping beneath the freshly emerging canopy, birdsong filling the air from before sunup to after twilight

Lots of tiny apples on our tree

Bright green tips on the dark branches of yew and holly

Seeking pockets of shade on tree lined Paris streets

Young blackbird family rootling through the mulch for worms

Driving down the lanes through clouds of cow parsley

Strawberries and sunshine

Standing in the garden, just letting the birdsong soak in

In Portugal, land of bells, where the nearby church chimes on the hour and sometimes in between for a special saint. The flock of sheep with a mellower, constant, hollow jangle

The pollen-heavy smell of warm rain

Cumulonimbus clouds build each afternoon, towering on the horizon, but no rain falls

Sweet peas are steadily climbing, their tendrils curling around supports heading skywards towards that blue

The cotoneaster by the front garden gate is alive with bees

Strawberry rhubarb pie, sunshine, school out for the summer, family cookouts

Sweeping up the daily drop from the massive walnut tree in the front garden. Annoyance relieved by song from bellbirds and piwakwaka

Checking the doors before bed last night I heard what I thought was raindrops tap tapping on the carport roof. I went outside in my slippers and pyjamas and just breathed it in for a few minutes whilst listening to the sound of the rain on the roof

In Scotland, my first sea swim that didn’t result in a mad dash to get my socks back on numb feet

The first rain we’ve had in weeks pattering off the greenhouse roof

The incredibly sweet taste of the first strawberries ripening in a large pot by my back door

Our first fresh local asparagus this year, dipped into wild garlic melted butter and eaten with the fingers

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What a beauty it has been. Thank you again for all of your glorious, poetic contributions. I have loved revisiting the glorious month just passed.

Please leave me a comments, and let’s do it all again for June!