May bluebells..

A bluebell wood in the rain.  One of the glories of May.

When drop-of-blood-and-foam-dapple 
Bloom lights the orchard-apple 
And thicket and thorp are merry 
With silver-surfed cherry

And azuring-over greybell makes 
Wood banks and brakes wash wet like lakes 
And magic cuckoocall 
Caps, clears, and clinches all—

I think I  heard a lovely echoing cuckoo today, like distant bells.  I think...

I love May. That poem was Gerard Manley Hopkins who loved May too.  But I am in Freston woods and often they are as beautiful as this in April. (Look at them last year:  Freston Woods in April)