Although I am a self-proclaimed city girl, even I do succumb to the beauties of nature around this time of year.
We have had a miserably wet week so far, but today the clouds parted long enough to let my Walking Partner and I get in a 10 miler. You can see our route if you wish -- from Marlston to Bucklebury to Stanford Dingley to Yattendon to Frilsham and then back to Marlston -- but you will just have to imagine the hills, the forest, the dappled light, the looming dark clouds, and the narrow country roads. There was mud, yes, but at least it was confined to the road and not dripping down our necks!
The cherry and apple trees must be gorging on all of the cold spring rain, because the trees look full to bursting with pink and white blossoms. Blossom time is so ephemeral -- for some trees, only 10 days or so -- and I want to soak up the sight! If only it would last . . .
My WP is highly attuned to the natural world, and as we walk she points out cowslips, a swooping red kite, tiny violets, the petals of a wild strawberry plant, and all of the animal babies -- calves, lambs, and piglets -- who have just staggered into the world. Much of our route is heavily forested, and the bluebells seem to be in every shaded spot. They are enchanting -- just as the snowdrops were before them. If you want to really see some of the glories of an English spring, visit "A Walk in the Bluebells."
I have been fretting a lot about the environment, and trying to compose a post about issues which frighten and confuse me, but today I just want to acknowledge that pagan urge to celebrate fecundity . . . and beauty of the earth renewing itself.