Blue Remembered Clent Hill

I went bluebell looking again for what will probably be the last time this year.  They don't last long.  These views are from Clent Hill.

On Clent Hill, you pass from bright sunshine, where the bluebells are a pale sky-blue, into the shadows of trees, where the flowers become a deeper, more violet blue.  But their wonderful scent is always the same.

There's even the occasional white bluebell.

And here are bluebells beneath a blue sky.  The birds were yelling all around us - sounding like creaky gates and tin whistles, but nevertheless singing peace into our breasts.  For that hour or so, walking in the sun and bluebell scent, I couldn't have been happier.