Dave and I were watching an Abbie Barns Film on YouTube of a walk in Cornwall. On it came shots of a bluebell wood and luxuriant green grass filled with wildflowers. I breathed an ‘oooh’, we’ll be seeing them again soon’. It made me realise how when in the past I’ve seen such shots I’ve just sort of dismissed and squashed such yearnings.
I’ve always missed the richness of the English countryside, up here in the mountains, it’s more sparse, short lived – except for the dandelions in May. How many things do you repress when there is a longing for them?
So in a year or so, we’ll be back in the green, of daffodils and pink cherry blossom. It’s like some sort of floodgates is opened. For Saturday newspapers and Dairy milk chocolate. Daffodils in February.
How long will the thrill last?
Then we got into a conversation about walking with no struggling up steep gradients, tractor and steam rallies, horse shows, National Trusting, not to mention beaches. If you’re not into skiing and have to work hard through summer, there’s not a lot to do here. But how long till we miss the smell of hot pinewood and the pink of the mountain rhododendron on the hills in early summer?