I have dragged my children around the bluebell woods every year since they were born and today was no exception, albeit with a smaller party plus dog. Our golden retriever loves the annual pilgrimage, but unfortunately while I was gazing at the wonder of the woodland, she discovered a bog and changed colour. This was quite embarrassing as the entire dog walking community seemed to be out with their perfect little pooches that clearly didn’t like rolling in black stinky mud.
A while ago, I asked for a Bluebell Book for my birthday – one of those photo books where you choose which photos to use, then add background and text. Then I scrolled through my photo albums. It took several hours. Sitting in bluebells, standing in front of a bank of bluebells, posing on a bench with a backdrop of bluebells… the list goes on. My children used to get fed up with posing for photos. “Not again… we went last year… and the year before… they’re always the same!”
That may be true, but it’s such a joy to see the carpet of intense blue – or is it purple, I’m never sure. At what point does one colour merge into another, so it’s called a different name? Spring unfolds fragile leaves like bright green tissue paper, soft to touch. It is a magical place under the canopy. The first bluebell is always my favourite: it reminds me of the first glimpse of the sea on childhood holidays. The promise of sandcastles, ice cream cones and beautiful views.
As the years rolled by, the Bluebell Book became more than a photo album, it documented new height and new haircuts, new styles and new self-confidence: it told a story of growing up.
Do you have any family traditions? I’d love to hear about them!
