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.
Mostly Motley 
Simply glorious. Nothing else compares to the sight and scent of bluebells, takes me back to my childhood when we had them almost on our doorstep – always loved them but remember being particularly thrilled if I found a white one.Lovely photograph too with the sunlight and shadows and bluebells stretching into the distance meeting the blue sky.
They are special aren’t they – even my teenagers give a slight gasp when they catch a glimpse.