One day & four seasons
A DAY AT MAY — THROUGH ALL THE SENSES
Four moods, one little world of peace.
Many of our guests have told us something rather lovely: the moment they arrive at May, open the gate and step inside, they feel a weight lift from their minds. A quiet sense of peace settles in, almost before they've had time to take in their surroundings.
And it isn't simply what they see.
Beyond the unspoilt beauty of nature, there's something deeply comforting about the scents in the air and the textures of the things they touch.
Far from the noise, dust and fumes of the city, May has its own quiet blend of fragrances: flowers and green leaves mingling with the earthy scent of damp soil, the warmth of natural timber, and the subtle mineral smell of limewashed walls.
We leave our wood in its natural state, without polyurethane varnish, and finish our walls with traditional limewash rather than conventional synthetic paint. The materials are allowed to breathe, and so, in a way, is the house itself.
Step into your room and there's a freshness you can feel. Nothing artificial, nothing overpowering. Just a gentle, natural coolness that invites you to relax, let go, and drift into a peaceful sleep.
And then, morning comes.
On drizzly mornings, cool mist settles over everything. Clouds and mountains lean into one another, their outlines dissolving into layer upon layer of smoky blue and grey.
The air smells of rain and wet earth.
You lift a cup of tea, breathe in its warmth, and for a moment, there is nothing to do and nowhere else to be.
Just this.
Just peace.
As the sun climbs above the mountain behind the house, the world begins to stir.
Golden light spills over the trees. The meadows shimmer.
The rich, damp scent of earth and greenery rises into the warmth, mingling with the familiar fragrance of natural wood.
Sunlight touches every living thing. Life is stirring, growing, unfolding. The air itself seems to expand. Leaves tremble, branches sway, and the scents of the earth slowly rise to meet the sky.
You sink into a beanbag beneath the trees, wonderfully sprawled out, letting little patches of sunlight dance across your skin.
Nature has never felt quite so close, so alive, so wonderfully real.
And then, the day begins to soften.
The sun drifts towards the distant mountain ridges. The light grows warmer, richer, more tender.
The sky blushes orange before slowly turning violet. Mountains that stood apart in the daylight begin to melt into one another, becoming a single dreamy silhouette of grey.
The lake catches the last light, its surface shimmering like silver.
A late boat makes its unhurried way across the water, gradually fading into the smoky haze along the horizon.
A breeze rises from the lake, carrying a faint, almost smoky scent — cool, fresh, strangely invigorating.
Somewhere, a dreamy melody seems to float in the air.
And the sweetness of the evening lingers, like the last sip of something beautiful.
You find yourself wondering: Isn't this enough?
And then another thought follows.
Should you try to hold on to those final traces of daylight?
Or simply let them go, and welcome the darkness — full, free, and entirely its own?
And just when you think the day has given you everything, May has one more surprise waiting.
The last door closes behind you.
You take a deep breath, reach for someone's hand, and make your way downstairs together, ready to discover another quiet corner of May.
Nothing to chase. Nothing to expect.
Just the simple pleasure of being here, together.
But as the mind settles, another world begins to open.
And the evening's final performance is about to begin.
Antonio Forcione sets the stage with his wonderfully wild, seasoned guitar playing — playful, restless, caught somewhere between restraint and abandon. His music builds an irresistible bridge for Sarah Jane Morris to step onto, her voice moving between tenderness and passion in Compared to What.
Under the warm, contrasting glow of the lights, soft murmurs turn into easy conversation. Laughter comes more freely.
Dinner becomes more than a meal.
It becomes a celebration of togetherness, of affection, of the simple happiness of sharing this very moment with the people around you.
No longing for what might come next.
No regrets about what has already passed.
No need for anything to be different.
Just letting everything be exactly as it is.
Four moods. Four beautiful ways of experiencing a single day at May.
If you've lived through all four, perhaps you'll understand why leaving can feel a little difficult.
And if you haven't?
Well, there's always another day.
Another morning, another sunset, another evening waiting to unfold.
And perhaps the loveliest thing about it all is that you can begin whenever you wish. 😊
We'd love to hear about the moments that have stayed with you after your time at May.
What is your most treasured memory of May Retreat?
Share it with us. We'd be truly grateful. ❤️