In this household we know that the summer is on point when the bluebells arrive to strut their stuff our garden. We have this bank to the side of the house which, if left to its own devices, sprouts thousands of bluebells. In recent months/years it has rather been left to its own devices because of writing and other work. So up sprout those bluebells. Everywhere.
I read somewhere that when this happens it’s a sign of very ancient woodlands, even a thousand years old. As this house is in the middle of a small, busy town I think this is very precious.
G is setting up his very neat vegetable patch 
But it’s a bonus now, in going down there, to relish this mall miracle and be reminded that the large thousand year miracle of the bluebells 
is still with us.
Another bonus is witnessing A, the boy who likes chocolate role-playing a social realist Russian Poster of the 1930s…
Ah, bluebells…
wx
Lovely post.
ReplyDeleteAnd once more we have the Autumn/Spring juxtaposition between "Up Top" and "Down Under".
I've been taking photos of falling leaves and Autumn mists today.
We do have bluebells down this way.
ReplyDeleteBut here they are an import so they mean "keen gardener" not "ancient forest".
As far as I can see from your photos, yours are real English bluebells - adding to the ancient woodland theory. I have hundreds of Spanish bluebells in my garden, pretty enough but I wish they were English.
ReplyDeleteAl - it's surreal to think your winter is my summer and vice versa. Your autumn mists in the same world as my bluebells. I know about it in my head but intuitively it's all very strange. And when i think of it, the very survival of my bluebells means 'unkeen gardener'...
ReplyDeleteMonix - I'm sure they're English bluebells; they're modest shy things and are no good at the tarantella.
I love the portrait of you on your site. Very charming.
w