Bluebells

We drove along the final roads leading to our Barn home, travel weary and wistful from our time back in Seattle.  Yet as the lanes narrowed, we felt enveloped and embraced within the high hedgerows, now fully in leaf, the banks of the familiar road overflowing with frothy white flowers.  A lovely welcome home hug from the countryside.  The tranquility of our little valley startled us, after the noisy energetic city.  Here we are cossetted in our tucked away valley with a ruined castle sitting like an exclamation mark at the end of the one road in. Spring has been busy while we were away. The woodlands are daubed in vibrant greens, blues and purples. Bluebells, dainty white Wood Anemones, and the fireworks bloom of Wild Garlic mingle in the shade of the trees. Red Campion, my childhood favourite, blushes pink along the woodland edge.  With these dry sunny days, morning or evening walks with Jon or driving along the lanes to A’s school with my arm trailing from the open window catching the rush of warm air, have been particularly blissful. And I am grateful for these interludes of delight that have woven into my days alongside stretches of sadness and anger. One of the louder angry voices in my head is shouting with incredulity at the backsliding of women’s rights in the U.S.  I am deeply furious with certain Supreme Court judges and their attack on women’s reproductive rights.  America, you make it so hard for me to consider returning to live within a society where so many people are marginalized.