A favourite part of my walk around the lake
is through this grove of birch trees.
During the summer I could hardly hear myself think
with the noise of cicadas.
Now the trees are bare and the mood is mellow.
is through this grove of birch trees.
During the summer I could hardly hear myself think
with the noise of cicadas.
Now the trees are bare and the mood is mellow.
There is a bench to sit on.. a perfect place to sit, look at the lake, and just be.
In front of the bench there is a plaque that reads
I KNOW A PLACE WHERE BLUEBELLS GROW
This intrigues me.
I once visited a bluebell woods in Ireland with friend Nora.
It was breathtaking.
An ocean of exquisite blue amongst the trees..and oh the perfume..
I am waiting to see whether bluebells will appear here.
Or is it that someone, like me, is remembering bluebells somewhere else.
In front of the bench there is a plaque that reads
I KNOW A PLACE WHERE BLUEBELLS GROW
This intrigues me.
I once visited a bluebell woods in Ireland with friend Nora.
It was breathtaking.
An ocean of exquisite blue amongst the trees..and oh the perfume..
I am waiting to see whether bluebells will appear here.
Or is it that someone, like me, is remembering bluebells somewhere else.
What a beautiful thought - either that bluebells will appear or that someone used to sit there and think of another time and place where they used to be among the bluebells. I love sitting on a park bench that has a plaque showing it has special meaning to someone in the past - it feels as though I am carrying on that 'specialness' for them.
ReplyDeleteThat is lovely M.
ReplyDeleteThanks Joan for poping by...think we might take a trip to Manchester and Cath's shop then l can play with table settings before buying!..what fun l'm going to have can't wait hahaha
ReplyDeleteSorry you're in the wet today...summer will arrive again one day though promise lol
Look forward to the same shot when there is a carpet of blue!
Hugs Suz x
How lovely. I love to sit and wonder about things. I wonder if bluebells will grow here? Someone else has obviously enjoyed the same place though. Jane xx
ReplyDeleteThank you Jane. Bluebells do not grow here like they do in colder climes. So I am not holding my breath. But..miracles do happen.
ReplyDeleteA perfect spot to rest and a lovely thought of wonderment of where the bluebells used to grow. This looks like a grand place to take a walk, Joan, and I love it when you take us here.
ReplyDeleteThe cicadas have been making a racket here for a few weeks now. We can hear them all the day long.
We have a little phenomena here in Illinois where a certain kind of cicada comes out from deep in the soil every seventeen years. They made their grand appearance about three years ago and the racket they made was deafening. Once, every seventeen years, they bore through in the millions, mate, reproduce, shed their shells, and die as their offspring crawl back in the ground. It is quite amazing, as well as quite messy. The animals and birds love them, the trees take a beating though, and have finally recuperated this year.
What an intriguing plaque. Do go back at bluebell time and find out! Maybe you will discover the bluebells inside you if they are not actually there on the outside.
ReplyDeleteThank you all for the lovely comments.. bluebells inside me.. beautiful.
ReplyDelete