Bluebells

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
I walked. And this is what I saw.

Submitted: June 02, 2012

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Submitted: June 02, 2012

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The ground is soft beneath my feet, the legacy of recent rains, yet not engulfing. The wind blows cold and hard from the left, freezing one half of my face and blinding my eyes with strands of my orange hair, invading my mouth. I walk, head down, watching my feet on the uneven path through the trees, music playing in my ears. Repetitive piano chords of the pop genre, soothing and familiar as the words of a well known song wind their path through my thoughts. The sun is bright and warm on my back, the trees are green with life, but the woodland floor is a mire of brilliant nettles, forbidding brambles and soggy dips of earth and mulch. The dry wind dehydrates me and I touch my tongue to my lips, thinking longingly of hot tea at home. I follow the winding path, and a flash of colour catches my eye. Pausing, I remove one earphone and look to my right. There is a patch of bluebells growing up through the nettles. I am struck by the contrast of that pale and delicate blue against the harsh green, the beauty against the repulsive, and I think that something wonderful can flourish in even the most unhappy places. As I continue to walk I see more and more of these spring flowers, their fluted petals more intricate than a well carved crystal glass. I muse on fairies and their habits. Would a fairy drink from a bluebell? What is it that a fairy would drink, come to that? A sweet honey wine perhaps, mixed with fairy dust and sunshine. I suppress a sarcastic smile at my sentimentality. But now I am walking with my head held high, looking around for more of these natural blue beauties, and I observe a bee taking its leisure amongst them, its gentle buzzing mixing with the music still playing through my headphones. The air is fresh and I breathe it in deeply, finally enjoying my walk. The sun shines stronger through the leaves, dappling everything in a pure, natural light. Bending close to a ladybird on a leaf, I can smell the richness of the earth, unpolluted and thick with the summer rains. The wind blows through my hair again, and I shiver. Turning homewards, there is now a spring in my step and a smile on my face. The world opens up anew, with life and light surrounding me


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