Bluebell bliss

Bluebells caress my senses as an in-breath of utter bliss.  The sight and the smell make me happy, fill me with a curious excitement. I can't help but wonder what it must be like for the humble honey bee, humming drunkenly from flower to flower, drowning her whole bee-ing in the heavenly fragrance of blue.

Looking through the gate into our nearest bluebell wood during the merry month of May it would be easy to believe that you had accidentally stumbled through the veil and been permitted entrance to Tír na nÓg - the land of infinite beauty and eternal youth. 

It is said that the fairies ring these wondrous bells to summon their people to gather and they cast spells on anyone who damages or picks bluebells.

The white sap that comes from the stem of a bluebell is reputed to be one of the ingredients in witches flying ointment and the means by which you might turn yourself into a hare.  I am gladly imprisoned by their electric indigo power to simply stop me in my tracks and insist that I gather the honey of their sight and smell, stand for a moment and simply breathe.