Bluebells.

I’d never seen any thing like it, the surfaced trail in the woods was heaving, alive – not with woodland creatures, nor with the magical sounds of elves or pixies chattering and laughing in the sunlit glade. Fairies fluttering from toadstool to toadstool couldn’t even become a figment of my wild imagination. For this part of the woods was teeming with people, all here to see the abundance of Bluebells that are a quintessential sign of British spring time.

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