The First Bluebell

We found the first bluebell this week. For the last three years, Olive and I have visited the same spot in our local woodland to find the first bluebell flowering; it’s always the same one, perfectly sheltered beside a holly bush with just the right amount of light filtering through the woodland canopy. It feels good to anchor myself with these small markers, especially when life is extra chaotic. That morning I had to get two babes ready for playgroup, a haircut and a doctor’s appointment, so to find our bluebell was a moment of calm in the whirlwind that is Monday-morning-motherhood. So reassuring, and so worth the effort to find that smudge of purple against the green.

Spring is taking its time this year, isn’t it? It feels like we’re being constantly tricked. For every afternoon of blue sky we’re punished with four days of drizzle, and I’m wary of getting my hopes up that brighter days are really here. This week I’m trying to get on top of illustration work for my next book, and I also have a book review to finish by the weekend, all of which is nice work when the weather outside is a bit grim. I’m treating myself to lots of coffee, and willing the sun to break through and start drying out the damp earth.