BluebellsLast week would have been our annual Bluebell walk. Our chosen location is a private wood that opens to the public for a small fee (all proceeds go to charity).
The bluebells in these particular woods are so lush and plentiful, it feels like you are walking through a deep, purple carpet of enchantment. (Hey, I read a lot!). Consequently, the turnout is always a major triumph whatever our British weather. However, we turned up on the appointed weekend to find that the event had been cancelled due to the sad, unexpected and untimely death of the gentleman who owned and organized the event.
So, just to mark the Bluebell Wood event and in a way to pay a small tribute to the Farmer who had always made this walk possible, I thought I would just make a “Bluebell Posting”.
The bluebell pictures I actually took on that same weekend. We wandered off in search of another wood and to find “some bluebells” so I just snapped a few to mark “The Bluebell Wood” weekend.
(From) The Bluebell
A fine and subtle spirit dwells
In every little flower,
Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
With more or less of power.
There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell
That fills my softened heart with bliss
That words could never tell.
Come walk with me through bluebell woods,
and see the proof of God’s sweet love.
Long rays of sunlight trickling down,
among the trees in search of ground.
A piece of heaven here below,
creation at its best on show.
With perfume drifting on the breeze,
to guide us through this deep blue sea.
Bright sapphires dance in flickering light,
while silent butterflies take flight.
And echoes of a distant thrush,
we know that He is here with us.
By Elizabeth Mason