Devonshire Bluebells

A gap in the rain was the signal for Dave and me to walk up a soft, peaty, spongy public bridlepath. It wound along a hillside called Mardon Down, looking over the hamlet below us.

I was surprised to find plenty of bluebells among the ferns and gorse still. Neither digital cameras nor film can reproduce their subtle hue without carefully chosen lens filtering. I had none, but here they are in spite of it, fresh, dripping wet, arrayed, as King Solomon might have remarked, in all their glory.

Comments

[Lee]

Absolutely blue-tiful.

[Peter Bryenton]

Thank you, Lee.

[Pauline Clarke]

A vase of bluebells and a slice of lemon drizzle cake - leave the door unlocked, please.

[Peter Bryenton]

Your visit is taking shape already, P.

[herhimnbryn]

Oh my, my favourite flower (with the wood anemone...is that the right spelling?:). You got the colour perfectly FF.

[Peter Bryenton]

Thanks: check your e-mail, HHB.