Lus buí Bealtaine

Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With every thing that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise.'

Cymbeline, William Shakespeare.

Marsh marigolds, also known as May Flowers and Mary's Gold were traditionally placed on windowsill on May Day Eve (damn, I'm a few days too late) to ward off any mischief that might have been going on. Their juice is also excellent at getting rid of warts, apparently. Anyway, mine are flowering happily at the edge of the small pond and look very cheerful and attract all kinds of insects.

A hectic day. Darjeeling and Assam tea was made in the big room this morning as part of their work on India - a teapot for each of the four tables. Talk about connoisseurs. Billy considered the differences and remarked' I thought I liked Assam the best but the flavour of the Darjeeling has lingered longer, so I've changed my mind'. Fionn demanded that the teapot be left with him as no way was he finished with it yet.

Irish soda bread followed in the small room ( I thought of you Kath!), fresh buttermilk having been purchased on the way into work. We all kneaded and shaped and marked a cross on top to keep away the fairies. It was fantastic. We ate it warm with butter and jam and a fresh pot of Darjeeling was made.
That's me done for the week, and it's Bank Holiday - bliss.