Sometimes, when the words won’t come, pictures can take their place.
Our view as we arrive at the wood…
‘Pools of violet are forming, each one calling to be looked at.’
Sunlight filter
‘A gauzy veil of green is gently lying over the trees, a filmy purple mist whispering over the ground.’
‘…as I approach, pools separate into individual bluebell drops, losing colour with definition.’
Bluebell wanderings
Trees of Sanctuary 