Earlier in the week, before the downpour set in, I’d noticed the bluebells were out in the wood where I walk the delinquent dog most mornings.
Taking photographs whilst simultaneously holding a schizophrenic dog on his lead and keeping a 360 degree watch for the approach of other dogs, squirrels or similarly tempting small furry animals, is quite a skill.
So it wasn’t until this morning that I finally managed to snap a few pictures.
Corny perhaps, but I still get a thrill when I see patches of bluebells through the trees.
But the most memorable part of the walk today wasn’t something I could photograph – it was the smell. After 36 hours of heavy rain, followed by a couple of bursts of bright warm sunshine, the smells through the wood and in the fields seemed intensified, more eau de parfum than eau de toilette – almost heady.
I love spring when it’s behaving itself.