Today I visited a bluebell wood for the first time (Mottisfont, Hampshire). I have always regarded bluebells as flowers of deep fascination and being in the middle of their magic carpet today made me feel like the eternal child of a great old tree. Incredible also to be in the wood within less than an hour from leaving home. A short train ride to the rural station of Mottisfont & Dunbridge and then a 15 minute walk up to the woods, many of which are protected and cared for by the National Trust.

Being in a bluebell wood for the first time transported me to a time which I only remember within the memories of my cells. There is no cognitive memory of it, but humans here, in this part of the world, have surely marvelled at this spring-time show in the same way I did today. There was a sense of that, anyway.