KATE BRADBURY

“In folklore, the Oak King and Holly King battle on each solstice”

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BACK IN MAY, AFTER WINTER AND the slow creep of early spring, I took myself along a disused railway line near Lewes, Sussex, to be consumed by the month’s riot. This barely used path was somewhat overgrown ~ nettles and cow parsley brushed my legs, while fresh growth in the canopy stole the bluest sky. Birds shouted from every branch, butterflies spilled from every flower. There were scurrying beetles, hungry nestlings and rustles of larger things in the undergrowth. There were nibbled leaves, mining bees and pollen-loaded bumblebees. The first cuckoo. Clouds of flies hanging languidly on the sticky air. It was too warm for the time of year, of course, but it felt magical. For a moment, surrounded by all this life, I felt abundance.