It begins with a vivid memory. It was the family tradition to make an excursion after Sunday lunch. This particular day we drove out, stuffed with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, to some woodland perhaps an hour away. I remember how sunny it was as we found a footpath heading in the right direction. Dad took the lead with the map as we tramped across or around a field trying to avoid the flies and the cowpats, until we got to the fringes of the woods. As the trees thickened into forest my father at last sat down and looked around at the dappled undergrowth, glowing blue with a carpet of bluebells. These little hyacinth-like bulbs threw up their greenery everywhere there was enough sunlight reaching the forest floor. My father was entranced by the glowing blueness, and I soon joined him, sitting on a log or stump and just looking at these bright flowers, seemingly everywhere. On closer inspection I saw where they got their name, blue-violet elongated bells that were so joyful to see. Wikipedia describes them as "arranged in a 1-sided nodding raceme". I saw perfection of form, a perfection that touched my curious-child core. Close up, each scented flower droops and curls in such a way that i could have explored any of them for hours.
For years I thought this place uniquely magical; I could imagine fairies coming out to dance and flit through them, working mischievous faery magic all through the day. Later I discovered many more places like it, these liminal places not quite woods, not quite gardens, laid out purely for my delight. And as I travelled the country over time i discovered them everywhere, each time being delighted and transported back to that first moment I recognised the world as a magically beautiful place.
I still have the yen to visit them again, I get the call every winter as i wait for the springing of these precious flowers. Even in the US now I feel the call to that primitive me, what, fifty years ago. The me that wants to see again this most precious intersection of tree and flower. It calls to me across the ages and the ocean. It would almost be worthwhile to fly back to England just to experience this beauty, this beautiful magic. I hope it won't take that much effort; I am still looking in my new home for them. Another thing I thank you for, Dad ♥.
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