There is a blue hill quite close by

Thick pinkish moss-clad curling flakes of ancient bark form the skin of a stout sycamore extruding buds to honour the imminent contract to shade the bluebells at its feet; the solid, stable, full expression of a tree. As eagerly awaited as any golden Vermont autumn, the bluebell flower-burst marks the progress of the Wansfell spring and answers the wintry question: why is it called Blue Hill Wood?

Copyright © Colin Hazlehurst 2009