In earlier days—from the at least as far back as the 12 Century—May Day was treated as a big deal.
Ancient Celts reckoned May First as winter's end and summer's beginning, which they called Beltane. The evening before, they built bonfires and made merry with food a drink, sometimes attempting a celebratory leap over the dancing flames. They also wandered hither and tither in woods and fields, gathering bundles of flowers and greenery for the morrow's decorating…whilst enjoying the occasional moonlit tryst.
Britons had their ribbon-strung Maypoles and Morris Dancing—and they, too, went "a'Mayin," picking baskets of blooms and greenery to employ in decorating for the festivities. There's a fine old painting by John Collier—a scene from Malory that was later recast in a poem by Tennyson—that depicts Guinevere astrid a white horse, surrounded by her retinue, her arms loaded with May blooms—hawthorn, by the looks of 'em.
In the place and culture where I grew up, many of the older folks and their kids still clung to many Mayday traditions—particularly setting up the annual Maypole, and going a'Maying to gather baskets of various spring flowers.
Photographically speaking, I went a'Mayin' yesterday, making images of many of the mostly wild blooms I found around the yard. I hope you see something you like.