Every year, I look forward to a number of fleeting seasons -from the primroses and asparagus in April and May; to the crisp, golden leaves and glowing hedgerows of blackberries in autumn, I adore the ebb and flow of the British seasons.
But there’s one season that I can’t wait for, and that’s bluebell season.
On my recent birthday trip to Cornwall, we spent a couple of nights down in Falmouth on the way back to Devon for B to do his motorbike test.
Test over, and with an afternoon spare, a friend suggested we head to Tehidy Wood, a half an hour drive north-west from Falmouth to check out the bluebells.
Arriving in the park, the entrance was flanked by old stone pillars and a path led into the woods past a small lake with chattering ducks and swans. At a crossroads, there are various loop tracks, both long and short which can be taken around the woods.
We followed a path along the river, and in between the trees shading us from the warm May sunshine, a few tame grey squirrels darted in and out the undergrowth. We tore off little chunks of apple to entice the squirrels over, but to our amazement, it was a blue tit who came over and sat on our hands, nibbling away shyly at the treat.
Further down the track, we paused to play on a rope swing across a small river, taking turns to push each other backwards and forwards, me nervously clambering onto the swing in an ungraceful style.
But it was the bluebells that stole the show, huge swathes of the woodland were lit up by an electric blue carpet, swaying gently in the Cornish afternoon air.
Nature, at its finest.