Bluebell carpets & Spring in the English countryside
- Julia Stevens
- Apr 6, 2017
- 5 min read
I was out walking my brother's dogs, Poppy & Biscuit, last weekend and was delighted to see my first bluebell. There I was meandering through the woods, revelling in the pine scented air when a burst of blue caught my eye amidst the sea of greens & browns. I stopped surprised as it seems a little early for the bluebells which I expect to arrive a little later in April.
I bent down to investigate. One lone early bluebell was dancing in a patch of sunlight. Was it just a mutant that was so far ahead of the game that it alone would be pollinated at the start of April?
Further investigation was needed, stooping lower I scanned the woodland floor to see if there were any other buds. As my eyes adjusted I began to see them, little mint green buds tucked amidst the thick lush foliage. Not just one or two lone early buds, but hundreds of them. Hidden for the next few days but about to break forth into a spectacular display of indigo blue beauty.
If you have never seen it before, it is one of those natural spectacles that takes the breath away. In ancient English woodland the bluebells bloom just before the leaf canopy forms overhead. On the floor of the woods you will see a stretch of blue flowers as far as the eye can see, bathing in the sunshine for a couple of weeks before they are shaded by the trees above.
My favourite spots to see Bluebell carpets are in the Surrey Hills. If you live locally I recommend you take a long walk in the next week or so and enjoy them in all their glory. Good places to see Bluebell carpets are the Chantries just outside Guildford or along the North Downs footpath between Sandy lane and Watts Gallery in Compton. The greatest expanse of bluebells I have found is up in the woods above Brook Farm on the outskirts of Farley Green.
Get out and see them before they disappear, they are only around for a couple of weeks. I promise you won't be disappointed.
"In every walk with Nature one receives far more than he seeks." John Muir
I could just finish this post right here. Nature in all its beauty is sufficient in itself. But in pondering the joys of Spring I realise what a privilege it is to share in this wonderland that is creation. I have been rereading John Muir's writings and found this quote below ...
"No synonym for God is so perfect as Beauty. Whether as seen carving the lines of the mountains with glaciers, or gathering matter into stars, or planning the movements of water, or gardening - still all is Beauty."
I love this time of year when it seems that the countryside is crying out .... BEAUTY!
I quietly watched this fox from my position hidden in the woods above while he stood surveying the field for a few magical moments. It is hard not to assign him human traits, no wonder we the English are a nation of animal lovers, entangling animals into our storytelling tradition. Below me it was as if Roald Dahl's Fantastic mr Fox was indeed spying out the lay of the land, ready for his next assault on the newly replaced chickens. ( I say 'replaced' because we had a bloody genocide before Christmas, not one chicken left standing, corpses scattered left, right and centre! )
Living in the countryside means we are surrounded by little dramas every day. Earlier in the week I was working on a painting with the stable door flung wide open to let in the warmth. Seeing the open door and relieved to find someone to help, a couple of upset dog walkers came hurrying over to tell me that there was a goose struggling on its back down by the lake. They couldn't get near to help it off its back. They were very worried it was dying and in distress.
On further investigation is was ascertained that is was actually one of the Egyptian goose parents working a very good distraction technique to keep us away from its young. The distraction of acting like a wounded dying bird did indeed completely fool most of us. The estate office had at least 3 more panicked members of the public running in or calling about the wounded goose on its back!
If I could give out a gold medal for parenting, the Egyptian geese would certainly get it.
Not like the doves who are very pretty when they fly in white lacey wisps of floating glory over the walled garden but are the most neglectful parents I've ever met. At least twice they have chosen the narrowest of ledges for their nest and their poor babies have tumbled off to their death on the hard cobblestones in the courtyard below.
Another bird I find quite neglectful in its parenting duties is the Canadian goose. In my part of the world they are too lazy to migrate and it seems also too lazy to have offspring. I was surprised to stumble across a lone nest last year, the loud hissing of one of the Canadian geese making me jump. Here I found the one and only goose out of a flock of fifty or so to have succeeded in laying some eggs.
In comparison the same Egyptian geese have worked together as couple and successfully raised at least 6 goslings every year. They mate for life and are quite at home nesting in old tree hollows in established parkland. I have yet to catch the moment when the babies emerge and mother pushes them out of the tree, persuading them to take the leap of faith and launch themselves out from their nest high up in the branches. They bounce off the bark and tumble all the way down to the ground far, far below. From here they toddle over to the lake and to their new life on the water.
Finally back to where I started and my little encounter with the lone bluebell while walking the dogs. Walking the dogs and observing their personalities had me thinking about which one I liked better. Was it Poppy with her unrestrained joy or Biscuit with her gentle placid temperament. They remind me of a couple of characters from A A Milne's 'Winnie the Pooh.' Poppy is just like Tigger, bouncing through the undergrowth and revelling in the excitement of a chasing every rabbit or pheasant in the area.
Biscuit on the other hand is more like Eeyore. Pondering life in the slow lane. Always right by my side, just happy to stare at the shadows lingering around my feet.
On the subject of Winnie the Pooh, it has been my delight to plant a little door in the base of an oak tree and tell my nephews that Pooh bear actually lives there. The story had to be further embellished by filling a tiny pot with honey & placing it outside the front door.
My nephew George wasn't fooled when after 2 years of persistently & politely knocking on the door every time he visited, (which was two or three times a year,) Winnie the Pooh never answered. Finding no-one in, he stopped believing my lie that "Pooh must be shy," or "Pooh must be sleeping."
Turning to me he bravely confronted the conundrum of never meeting my imaginary friend. Why did he never answer the door? And for that matter, why did the pot of honey never get eaten?
"Does Pooh really live here?"
I had to confess that maybe not. Maybe he had moved house a long time ago!
So tread carefully. Keep your eyes open and senses alert. Spring is here and it is a wonderful thing to observe everything coming alive. And on that note let me finish with a word of wisdom from Winnie the Pooh himself
....“Always watch where you are going.
Otherwise, you may step on a piece of the Forest that was left out by mistake."
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