St George is the Patron Saint of England and has nothing at all to do with Bluebells. I bet he liked them though if he ever thought about such things.
Its a beautiful thing to drive through the countryside and see the woods just blooming. The blue is brighter than the sky and leaves are just budding so the lime of the buds compliment the blue carpet below.
I have said before about my Uncle Harold. He and I had much in common, we loved writing poems and we both loved Bluebells. Here is a picture taken in the Isle of White where he lived. Harold and Nellie lived there after they retired and Auntie Nellie got Parkinsons. Harold would care for her and when he got cancer all he worried about was how she would manage when he was gone. Well until he died he wrote to me and would still enjoy a quiet walk into Shanklin through a spinney that would be covered in Bluebells. He would walk to the shops and back as often as he could.
I love graveyards. A quiet place to reflect and to dream. What could be prettier than a country graveyard with bluebells?
How I would love to walk through here on a Spring morning.
I can not think of anything better than walking in an English woodland. Especially in Springtime. God created so much beauty and its good to be out and appreciating it. Listen to the birds as they feed their young and the baby bunnies, deer and other wildlife. Spring, season of renewal. A fresh start.
I used to gather arm fulls of bluebells and take them home to mum. Alas they do not like to be picked and do not last in water for long. Better to enjoy them growing.
I have to get some for my garden so that in the Springtime I can enjoy that beautiful blue.
I am sharing this with a few other blog parties.
Also sharing with Adorned from above with thanks
