Scent of Gorse.

Image: college valley

En route to College Valley. Northumberland.

I was looking for country road to drive this weekend and found your website. Listening to ballad songs from Rascal Flatts and browsing your pictures is the perfect match to start the day. Will get on these roads very soon, especially Northumberland. Many many thanks again.

Image: country roads to College Valley, Northumberland.

It's May in Northumberland.

Image: country roads to College Valley, Northumberland.

Yes, I will spend the livelong day
With Nature in this month of May;
And sit beneath the trees, and share
My bread with birds whose homes are there;
While cows lie down to eat, and sheep
Stand to their necks in grass so deep;
While birds do sing with all their might,
As though they felt the earth in flight.
William Henry Davies, In May.

Image: country roads to College Valley, Northumberland.

Shady lane.

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What potent blood hath modest May.
Ralph W. Emerson

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What is so sweet and dear
As a prosperous morn in May,
The confident prime of the day,
And the dauntless youth of the year,
When nothing that asks for bliss,
Asking aright, is denied,
And half of the world a bridegroom is,
And half of the world a bride?
William Watson, Ode in May, 1880.

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Winter is many months of the year
But now at last Maytime is here;
And birds sing from a leafy screen
In the trees and hedgerow freshly green;
And the wood-anemone is out in the shade,
With its blushing petals which too soon fade;
Once more the bracken is unfurling there,
And bluebells gently perfume the damp air.
Veronica Ann Twells, Maytime.

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The fair maid who, the first of May
Goes to the fields at break of day
And washes in dew from the hawthorn tree
Will ever after handsome be.
Mother Goose Nursery Rhyme.

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Since thy return, through days and weeks
Of hope that grew by stealth,
How many wan and faded cheeks
Have kindled into health!
The Old, by thee revived, have said,
'Another year is ours;'
And wayworn Wanderers, poorly fed,
Have smiled upon thy flowers.
William Wordsworth, To May, 1830.

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The May-pole is up,
Now give me the cup;
I'll drink to the garlands around it;
But first unto those
Whose hands did compose
The glory of flowers that crown'd it.
Robert Herrick, The Maypole, 1660.

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"A little Madness in the spring Is wholesome even for the King."
Emily Dickinson.

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Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.
William Shakespeare.

Image: north country road photo.