At last!

The first day of May, and at last the climate in the north of England has come out of hibernation. Somebody in weatherland forgot to turn over the calendar so we had three months of February, and suddenly - yes! Tulips, anemones, daffodils and narcissi, blossom on the trees, alyssum and forget-me-not, and flowers on the gooseberry bushes. (I love gooseberries.) And a UFO. Hang on, that's the sun.

I spent today in York with a friend and we sat outside eating lunch in the garden at the Bar Convent. It's the first time this year that we've been able to eat anything outside without frostbite. Mrs Blackbird was bustling about and eating cake crumbs. She was very tame, which I suppose comes from living in a convent garden guarded by nuns and angels. I've never seen a cat anywhere near there. I came home to find Much with that grin he has on his face when all's well with his world.

Mayday is celebrated in the UK with all sorts of customs. In Oxford the choristers sing on Magdalen - or is it Christ Church? - tower at sunrise. In villages there might be morris or maypole dancing. But on Mistmantle, I imagine they're having a fantastic Spring Festival. Sepia and her choir are singing, Swanfeather has learned to juggle, Hope is enjoying a sticky berry pastry made specially for him by Crackle, and Mistress Apple has decorated her hat with bluebells.