Extra! Extra! Read All About It! The bluebells are out in Ecclesall Woods once again. They do not last for very long but while they are out the glades of that ancient woodland are awash with hazy blue. I am going to go right out on a limb here and declare that native British bluebells are my favourite flower of all.
Over the years, I have also found them exceedingly difficult to photograph effectively. The human eye is more forgiving than a camera lens when it comes to bluebells and dappled light.
Yesterday afternoon I dragged Shirley away from her mask making to visit the woods. She was also delighted with the bluebell show. At first the golden orb hid behind clouds but half way through our woodland wandering he decided to put in an appearance as the heavenly canopy above turned blue - though not bluebell blue which has hints of lilac and purple.
I felt like writing a bluebell poem but having laboured over "Moors" this week, I decided to simply recycle two previous bluebell poems. The first is from May 2017 and the second - a war poem with bluebells - is from 2014. One or two of you out there may be remember them. The poems are old ones but at least the photographs with this post are brand new.
☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼
They came back.
A haze of indigo, purple and violet blue
Swirling across that secret glade
Like morning mist
Drifting the mottled shadows
Under gnarled and timeless trees
Where invisible thrushes carolled
In the heart of those fairy woods.
And it was lovely and it was blue.
Tumbling down to the brook
And all along the margins of the path.
I bent and held a single stem against my palm
Silently pledging no hurt nor harm
To see them dangling like drops of rain
To see the blueness once again.
Yet they made no ringing or jingling sound
As they reclaimed their ancient ground.
What joy and truth was thereby found
To see the bluebells all around.
1916
I left you in the bluebell time
Afore that summer's foliage
Carpeted those paths we walked
In shadow.
I clasped you by a gnarled beech tree
And felt your urgent heart
Against my chest -
And the lovely bluebells
Hung like mist
And life seemed like a story
Of hope and yes, of love...
But I left you in the bluebell time
For Cannock Chase
And khaki games of war
No bluebell kisses
And no words to say
Those awful things we saw.
A haze of indigo, purple and violet blue
Swirling across that secret glade
Like morning mist
Drifting the mottled shadows
Under gnarled and timeless trees
Where invisible thrushes carolled
In the heart of those fairy woods.
And it was lovely and it was blue.
Tumbling down to the brook
And all along the margins of the path.
I bent and held a single stem against my palm
Silently pledging no hurt nor harm
To see them dangling like drops of rain
To see the blueness once again.
Yet they made no ringing or jingling sound
As they reclaimed their ancient ground.
What joy and truth was thereby found
To see the bluebells all around.
I left you in the bluebell time
Afore that summer's foliage
Carpeted those paths we walked
In shadow.
I clasped you by a gnarled beech tree
And felt your urgent heart
Against my chest -
And the lovely bluebells
Hung like mist
And life seemed like a story
Of hope and yes, of love...
But I left you in the bluebell time
For Cannock Chase
And khaki games of war
No bluebell kisses
And no words to say
Those awful things we saw.
 |
| Before the sun came out |
You beat me to it YP! Our bluebells are out here too and I was thinking about taking a few photos to post. As you say, though, they always look startlingly blue to the naked eye but often appear washed out in my photos.
ReplyDeleteYour third photo is my favourite there.
Go on do it JayCee! I have not patented the idea. I wonder if there are subtle botanical differences between English bluebells and your island flowers. Evolution and all that.
DeleteBeautiful poems and stunning photos. You should make calendars.
ReplyDeleteI should make Whoopee!
DeleteDifficult to photograph, but you did it.
ReplyDeleteThank you your grace.
DeleteYes you managed to capture the glorious colour created by dappled shade and the poems are great.
ReplyDeleteToo kind fair damsel.
DeleteThose photos are amazing.
ReplyDeleteThank you Sue.
DeleteThat next-to-last photo reminds me of a giant animal with its paws hidden by the bluebells as if he was walking across the beautiful glade.
ReplyDeleteIn fact, it was an elephant!
DeleteThat is fantastic, fanciful imagery, Ms Moon - love it
DeleteI've only ever seen the bluebells in bloom once in England and it was so beautiful. Mum bought a painting in Rye of the bluebells and I still have that painting. They looked like a small lake in the middle of the forest. The photos are lovely.
ReplyDeleteRye is a lovely little town isn't it Lily? Shirley and I once rented a holiday apartment there and a great week exploring the area.
DeleteA perfect, uplifting, blog YP. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI am glad it brought a smidgen of pleasure to your Hispanic day CG!
DeleteThe 2017 poem I remember, the 2014 I am not sure about; maybe I did not know your blog yet by then.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, the photos are very good, in spite of the difficult light and shadows, and generally the problem with many blues and greens. I wonder whether I will ever manage to be in Yorkshire at that special time of year; so far, I have always been either too early or too late.
I am sending this just for the opening picture:-
Deletehttps://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/fountains-abbey-and-studley-royal-water-garden/features/making-the-most-of-may-at-fountains-abbey
I know, Neil! That is one reason why I like the place so much.
DeleteBut you said you had not visited in bluebell time.
DeleteBeautiful poems and certainly beautiful bluebell photographs! I enjoyed both. Spring brings many blessings if only we look.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading my poems Bonnie - and for leaving such a nice comment.
DeleteI remember both poems, and both are good, but the second is really my favourite. Beautiful photos. I feel the same about the masses of forget-me-nots that grow here.
ReplyDeleteYou have a good memory Jenny. No wonder you were The Blogger of the Year in 2019!
DeleteThey are lovely. I don't think we have these growing wild in Sweden; our "bluebell" (blåklocka) is what you'd call harebell, I think. (And they are not out yet.)
ReplyDeleteI think these bluebells are native to the British Isles. There is a bigger, brasher kind of bluebell which can be invasive - known as the Spanish bluebell.
DeleteYou really get some dense bluebells in those woods. The ones I see here are more scattered. But agree about the photography -- it's very hard to capture the color. I remember those poems!
ReplyDeleteThe woods are ancient so I expect the bluebell glades are too. This might explain the density.
DeleteBlue bells are very early so they are very welcome.
ReplyDeleteEspecially in the pandemic hell.
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