Wetting the bed

For one reason or another I haven't been out walking with George much recently so we made up for it today with a two-hour wander around the woods. It was very obvious that Spring has certainly sprung.

The field next to the tip was a mass of dandelions. Were you told, as a child, not to pick dandelions as it would make you wet the bed? I'm sure there must be some herbal homoeopathic reason for that but, to this day, I've never picked dandelions in flower. But I've picked the fairy clocks and never wet the bed.

In the woods we came across loads of these strange little boxes. No idea what they're for but, I guess, part of an experiment.
A few years ago the council undertook a massive clearing project in Clyne woods to rid it of the alien rhododendrons, azaleas and camellias, which had migrated in from neighbouring Clyne Gardens, to allow the native species to thrive. The work took over a year and changed the face of the woods as we had known it. But it hasn't worked!

I can understand them missing small bushes or seedlings that were just shooting up but these flowers were on fully-grown trees.

They may not be in the right place but they're very pretty.

But the main reason we went for our meander was to search of bluebells. They're not out fully yet but are just starting to bloom. I love bluebells: they have a colour that is unlike any other. And a beautiful scent. Every time I walk through bluebells I dream my secret fantasy ...