I really love Violets. When I was a child my friend Sylvia and me would go hunting for the first violets. I dont know why they were such a big deal to us but I never imagined the thrill of finding those first little buds. I was born and raised in England and we kids could run wild. Our parents didn't have to worry about us at all. We would walk for miles over the fields and not think of any danger. There really was none. Anyway, I digress........first sign of spring and off we would go on the hunt for the first violets. We knew every spot that they grew. Finding new spots was a thrill. I knew the countryside around my home for miles like the back of my hand. Much as my dad and all generations before had done. So I guess apart from their beauty, I love the memories.
Bluebells, well that's the name of the blog so you may imagine that they are among my very favourite flower. Again its the memories. In the Springtime the trees are just beginning to foliate and are a delicious lime green. The floor of the woods are blue with flowers like a brilliant carpet laid out to take your breath away.
My Uncle Harold shared this love and would write poems. He knew I loved them too and would send pictures when he could to remind me of home. He lived on the Isle of White and to go to the village shops he would walk through Bluebell woods.
No comments:
Post a Comment