Bluebell

Our native bluebells are at their peak now, there are many blips of a blue haze of flowers extending to vanishing point. Bluebell woods truly are one of the glories of Britain. Where I walk Gus on Arnside Knott, the bluebells are less extensive, being found only in small discrete clumps. So I've opted for a macro of the flower, a celebration of its colour and curves, an altogether more delicate and attractive plant than its vigorous pale Spanish cousin that grows in our gardens and is spilling out onto the road verges, threatening to hybridise and pollute the native gene pool.

As I was kneeling in the dewy grass squinting at the sparkle of the low angled morning light in the water drops behind, a man approached and struck up a conversation about how early the Spring is this year and how impressive the shows of cowslips, bluebells, ramsons and early purple orchids. It turned out he is the person who every year paints the nearby trig point white. He was on his way to inspect it, someone had told him there were boot prints on the paint. I didn't like to tell him some of those prints were mine, from the occasions when desperate for a blip, I scrambled up it to get an elevated wide angle view of Gus looking hopefully up at me for a treat.

The best light as so often was early on, I very nearly missed the sun when talking to the man. Shortly afterwards, it was obscured by clouds (still a favourite LP). That did help later in the day when I managed a couple of hours digging the allotment - but there's still a long way to go. Not quite a Calum's Road scale of task, but nonetheless a Sisyphean one this last couple of years. Do look at the Calum's Road link to my back blip from Raasay, posted just before this.