Spring's Sapphires
Walking, breathing, immersing
Oh the utter joy of a bluebell wood!
I can’t tell you how much being in amongst bluebells makes my heart sing. I have been coming to this woodland in springtime for decades. It is nestled in the foothills of Roseberry Topping on the edge of the North York Moors and owned by the National Trust who do an amazing job to preserve its magic. I find deep, palpable inner peace here, like nowhere else, not even my garden (though that does come a close second). I often wonder what it is that draws me close every year.
I have loved bluebells since I was a small child. We had a tiny clump in the front garden and when they arrived each year I found myself sitting next to them staring, almost mesmerised, into their delicate bell-shaped flowerheads as they hung, ringing in the breeze. I admired the way they existed in community, never criss-crossing over each other but always together, each bloom allowed a space to shine. I probably longed for that in my own world.
It was only when I reached adulthood that I actually sought out bluebell woods in my vicinity. The first time I visited one it was an experience I will never forget. I hadn’t expected the extent of the swathe of sapphire blue. It really was like a carpet laid down in the woodland.
The intensity of the hue shone in the sunlight and the even the birdsong seemed to fill the forest with a celebratory chorus for the arrival of the bells. Up close to the flowerheads, drooping on one side of the stalk as all English bluebells do, their familiar form was so delicate and their scent quite pungent. I took many photographs that day with my trusted SLR camera, until the battery ran out…..most inconvenient! But this meant that I had the opportunity to take in the scene without distraction and just be.
My peaceful pilgrimage
So now every year, I visit these woodlands. I am itching to go as soon as April arrives. Their optimal flowering period, however, is weather dependent. If you go too soon the bells are not out, just tight, deep blue buds, beautiful but not quite the full effect you want. Too late, and you risk them having “gone over”, the colour faded and the blooms wizened.
This year I went on the 29th April. We have had a really long dry spell and so the blooms were nearly going over (unusually early), the robustness of the flowerheads appearing rather delicate as if to say we can’t hold on much longer. The intensity of the colour was amazing, like I had never seen before, hard to describe so I will leave it to your imagination to conjure up this magical scene.
Along with the deafening birdsong, this multisensory experience was breathtaking. I found a clump of grass, closed my eyes, took in the scent and the sound and fell into a true bliss state. I thought back to the clump of bluebells in my childhood garden. My life is very different now, but there is this common thread which feels comforting.
Aglais io (Peacock butterfly) and Hyacinthoides non-scripta (English Bluebell)
Two of my favourite things from nature, how lucky am I to witness both together?
The woodland offers other delights. Mounds upon mounds of wild garlic, with its sparkler like flower head, line the paths up to the main site of the bluebells. You are allowed to pick a few leaves, which I did, to add to my pasta sauce that night. Increasingly present are the new leaves emerging from the deciduous trees, spreading lime green luminescence in the sunlight and the ferns unfurling as they uncurl from their tight, snail like spiral. Dandelions were aplenty too, still doing their thing.
I said thank you to the bluebells as I left the woodland (as I always do). I promised to be back next year. They promised to do the same. We had lunch in a nearby pub. We struck up a conversation with a elderly couple on the next table. I told the lady that we had just been to see the bluebells. She said that she couldn’t walk that far anymore and that she would never see them again. The realisation that what I had just witnessed in the woodland was such an honour and not to be taken for granted. It made me wonder how many more bluebell seasons I have left. Life has its seasons too.
Something to respond to, or journal around
I am curious:
What colour in nature appeals to you?
What is your favourite spring flower and why is it so special to you?
Do you have any childhood memories associated with nature?
Nothing more uplifting than the sea of blue and the intoxicating scent of Ransoms, with their little sparkler flower heads. Absolute delight!
Colour wise, I think the bright spring green of very new leaves – and especially of the beech – does it for me at this end of the year, although as we pass through, there's the delicate pinks of wild rose, and the vibrant yellow of early flowers, the deep magenta of the foxglove ...
We have bluebells growing in our garden, both front and back. They do have a slightly annoying habit of growing wherever they please, but they are welcome, none the less. I also wish they didn't have such big leaves that take up so much space, but hey, that's the way they are. They come out along with some other plant that also has blue flowers, and they look nice together. It seems that both of those plants will let nothing deter them from their chosen home!