1st May. I love England in May at more than any other time, I think. There is something about the colour of the landscape, this first week of May, that I find extraordinary — like diving into a painting by Howard Hodgkin or Mark Rothko.
I think this green is what I was homesick for when I lived in New York for five years. And despite the bone-dry weather, the valley has never looked and felt so beautiful in its brilliant, acid, Spring green.