It's a beautiful morning.
Admittedly, a sunny day would have been more appropriate for May Day. But despite the persistent overcast, it isn't raining, and the fields and forests surrounding the town are full of all the flowers one could wish. Old Maude shooed her out into the forest to gather them with the other young people, while she took the opportunity for a bit of piece and quiet. Or so she said; Eleanor has her own suspicions. Maude is old, not dead, and today is May Day, and she was given dire imprecations should she come home early.
She giggles to herself as she carefully picks columbine flowers to weave into garlands.