In Praise of Bluebells

Posted on May 7, 2025 by johnshortlandwriter

Can there be a more delightful spot to linger than a bluebell wood in spring? The intensity of their colour when seen growing in their tens of thousands would hurt the eyes if not offset by the citrus green of the beech trees they favour growing under. With early morning sunlight filtering through the branches to strike the woodland floor below, both leaves of beech and ‘bell shimmer and sparkle in the clear light. As the forest warms the bluebells release their scent but not the heavy, redolent perfume that one might expect. Instead, a fragrance so soft and gentle that for a moment it seems to come from elsewhere; all too quickly it melts away, dispersed by the increasing heat.

Bluebells are one of the key indicator plants of ancient woodland, a term that refers to woodland that pre-dates AD1600, for their bulbs prefer to remain undisturbed where they can slowly establish huge colonies. Here, in the secret valley where they grow in hedge banks, they can be used to trace the line of an equally ancient drove road for it is thought that the hedgerows and trees that line it are remnants of Wychwood Forest. Over centuries, the boundaries of the Forest have shrunk as fields were created and the trees cleared for arable land or pasture. By leaving the field edges untouched the early farmers saved themselves both time and labour and in doing so preserved the bluebells that give me so much pleasure each spring. The drove road – primarily used for herding livestock long distances to market – passes our little stone-built cottage before diverting across open country. It is still used as a public right of way.

*Bluebells line the old drove road that passes my house*

Unsurprisingly for a plant that has been around from time immemorial, the bluebell has numerous regional names – Common Bluebell, English Bluebell, Fairy Bell, Wild Hyacinth to name a few. Perhaps the best has to be Granfer Giggles. In Scotland they are known as harebells although to an Englishman harebell would be a completely different plant that grows later in the summer when the bluebells have long ended. Even the Latin name which is supposed to prevent confusion has changed over time – it is now known as Hyacinthoides non-scripta. I much prefer the earlier name of Endymion non-sciptus, it sounds more attractive as well as having a romantic Greek legend attached to it. Illegal to dig up plants from the wild, bluebells are sometimes offered for sale from cultivated stock under either of these names.

*Occasionally you may find a white, or even a pink bluebell*

For such a well-loved plant – it has been voted England’s unofficial national flower – bluebells do not seem to feature much in poetry. They are frequently mentioned by name but no-one, as far as I can tell, seems to have written poems specifically about the plant. Perhaps it is because they are such a common sight and have none of the delicacy of the wild rose, the scent of the honeysuckle or the diminuity of wild thyme. Shakespeare, who seems to have written about absolutely everything (including thyme), only mentions it once: “the azur’d harebell” in Cymbeline. The Brontë sisters both wrote of bluebells but I’m not sure they weren’t describing later flowering harebells. Emily’s description “waves in summer air”, and Ann talks of a single flower and of its trembling. Bluebells are quite a stiff flower that don’t wave or tremble that readily whereas Campanula harebells fit the description nicely. I can’t recall even my beloved Richard Jefferies, the Victorian naturalist, waxing lyrical over them as he did over so many other things. I may be wrong about this for I can hardly call myself a Jefferies’ scholar, more an enthusiast. However, Cicely Mary Baker created a delightful illustration of the flower in her set of Flower Fairies published in 1923 where she describes the bluebell as the king of flowers.

*The less-common Harebell – Campanula rotundifolia*
*It flowers later in the summer and in more open places*

It is to the Georgians that I have turned to illustrate our love of bluebells for I have found frequent references to them in old newspapers and periodicals not just in published poetry but also in their fashions. This description of the sumptuous gown worn by the Princess of Wales when attending the King’s Birthday in 1795 is worth reproducing here: “A gown of superb, embroidered crepe imitating the rays of the sun and intertwined with embroidered white lilies. Over which a cape of Venetian net embroidered with laurels and Diana’s (presumably the Goddess) crescent”. Finally, there was another over-cape “embroidered with bluebells (yes!) and held in place by rich cords and tassels”. As if this wasn’t splendid enough there was “a long train of silver gauze bordered in purple and silver”. Having spent twenty years in the world of fashion (before I switched careers to horticulture) this has sent me into overdrive! Sadly, I haven’t found any illustrations for this ensemble but I do have photos of the ‘draft’ for equally exquisite embroidery designed by Norman Hartnell for a robe for Queen Elizabeth II.

*Embroidery design by Norman Hartnell for Queen Elizabeth II*

Even earlier, in 1786, Mrs Charlotte Smith was publishing her sonnets. A remarkable woman for the age, she left an unhappy and violent marriage and campaigned for women’s rights and the abolition of slavery. She wrote fiction and poetry to financially support herself and her children. This sonnet reminds me so much of my youth where I roamed the bluebell beechwoods of the Chiltern Hills, for which they are renowned.

“Ah, Hills belov’d! where once a happy child,
Your beechen shades, your turf, your flowers among,
I wove your bluebells into garlands wild,
And woke your echoes with my artless song.
Ah! Hills, belov’d! your turf, your flowers remain;
But can they peace to this fad’ breast restore?
For one poor moment soothe the sense of pain,
And teach a breaking heart to throb no more?

I’m glad to say that my heart is no longer breaking so perhaps the bluebells worked their magic!

*A very old photo (hence the strange colour!) of me and my two deerhounds in a Chilterns beechwood at bluebell time*

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A Walk by Stonehenge – part 1

Posted on March 21, 2023 by johnshortlandwriter

It is many years since I last visited Stonehenge, the prehistoric standing stones so closely attuned to the midsummer solstice. Renowned throughout the world, it has been listed as an UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1986. With fame comes numerous issues, not least how to cope with the estimated one million visitors that come to see them each year. To prevent damage to the stones through soil erosion and, surprisingly, physical damage through the chipping off of ‘mementos’, the stones are now cordoned off. This fencing is removed to allow access at the time of the midsummer solstice, a time when hundreds of people wait through the night for the midsummer sun to rise directly between the stones. The image below is of a postcard that my great-aunt sent me in 1963 when the stones were much less frequently visited and reminds me of those early years when I used to play amongst them.

*Stonehenge was far less visited back in the 1960s!*

The Stonehenge World Heritage Site covers an area that includes other Neolithic standing stones close by. A few miles away, and unlike Stonehenge, a place where you can walk amongst the stones every day of the year, is Avebury. This circle is huge and considerably older than Stonehenge: flint tools dating back 9000 years show that early man was passing that way 4000 years before Stonehenge was built. Avebury is the place to visit if you want to get close enough to touch the stones and it is also completely free to visit. To visit Stonehenge can be quite costly although there is another way you can see the stones (legally) without paying if you’re prepared to walk – see below.

*Avebury Stone Circle – part of the Stonehenge World Heritage Site*

The third site, and to my mind, the best one for you will almost certainly have the place to yourself, is known as Woodhenge & Durrington Walls. To be really impressed by this comparatively unknown place you do need to know some background information of its history plus a vivid imagination. For me, it is such an atmospheric place to visit that the latter has never been an issue! I recommend starting your walk here and walking inside the circle of Durrington Walls before exploring Woodhenge. The first thing that is noticeable about Durrington Walls is that there are no walls! The circular bank and ditch that surrounds the site was enormous and consisted of the bank itself which would have been several metres high. The ditch originally was over five metres deep and, in places, up to thirty metres wide. It is estimated that between four and six thousand people would have been needed to build the walls as well as the various houses and large timber circles associated with the site. A feat quite remarkable nowadays let alone over four thousand years ago using just antler pickaxes! Although nothing remains above ground now, apart from the bank, I found it very easy to imagine, as I walked alone and in silence, the bustle and noise of these industrious people.

*Within Durrington Walls, now a grassy bank, up to 6000 people once lived*

*Information boards help you to understand the context of what you are not seeing!*

Leaving Durrington Walls I made my way to the Cuckoo Stone, my only companions, sheep. Now fallen, this stone would originally have been placed upright. Looking at maps, it appears to be more, or less in line with the Great Cursus (more about that below) which in turn leads to Stonehenge. The Cuckoo Stone, positioned 4000 years ago, continued to be ritually used into Roman times for in 2007, during archaeological excavation, a small building thought to be a shrine from that period was discovered.

*Close to the Cuckoo Stone a Roman shrine once stood*

Leaving the Cuckoo Stone, my path led to an old track edged by wildflowers humming with bees and butterflies and bringing me out at the top of the Cursus. The Cursus is another huge earthwork showing nowadays as a crop mark – two bright green stripes in an otherwise darker landscape. If you compare my photograph with the one of the information board (below), I was standing at the opposite end. In my image, the end of the Cursus can just be made out on the far horizon almost two miles distant. The purpose of the Cursus is unknown but thought to be ceremonial as it is again aligned to the summer solstice. It is even older than Stonehenge having been constructed several hundred years earlier.

*The two-mile long Cursus now only shows as two grassy green stripes*

*The Cursus is better understood from this aerial* *photograph*

Another good track took me due south before turning west to Old King Barrows and then back south to New King Barrows. Before leaving the Cursus I stood to watch the visitors to Stonehenge some long way off and thinking how lucky I was to have all of this unseen history of the World Heritage Site to myself with only the song of skylarks as company. More than five thousand years separated me from the Neolithic people yet surely, they must have stood here too and seen a similar picture as they made their way to join others already arrived, a humbling thought.

*A distant Stonehenge can be clearly seen from the Cursus*

The Old and New King Barrows consist of two groups, each of seven burial mounds so fourteen in total, separated by Stonehenge Avenue which is only visible as another cropmark. The Avenue linked Stonehenge to the River Avon almost two miles away and was, perhaps, another route the Ancients would have taken to reach the stones. Despite their name, the Old and New King Barrows date from the same time period, and also around the same as Stonehenge.

*One of the prehistoric burial mounds at Old King Barrows*

It was by the barrows that I turned back towards Woodhenge, the last part of my relatively short but extraordinarily rich walk, rich both in its views and its wildlife, as well as its history. As if to bring me almost up-to-date in time, the sound of an old-fashioned binder in an adjoining field was busy bringing in the harvest. Not quite twenty-first century but a common sight less than a hundred years ago.

*Harvesting wheat the old-fashioned way*

The final part of my walk to Woodhenge can be found by clicking this link here.

To visit Stonehenge for free involves a walk not dissimilar to this one. Park in Durrington village and take the public bridleway path (where it meets Fargo Road) directly south to Stonehenge. The path passes the stones within yards of the public viewing path so you will still be separated from the stones. Public footpaths continue southwards, criss-crossing an area rich in more barrows and other ancient earthworks. With the help of an Ordnance Survey map it should be quite possible to make a longer, circular walk.

**Click on any of the images to enlarge**

A Hidden Exmoor Walk

Posted on March 20, 2016 by johnshortlandwriter

I have misgivings about sharing this walk for it is a favourite of mine: in the 48 years that I have known it I have rarely met anyone other than those that work the land here. Do I want to encourage others to discover its beauty? I’m not sure.

This circular walk begins with the open expanses of Brendon Common but follows more sheltered winding lanes before descending through beech woodland to Rockford and the East Lyn River. A steep climb past Brendon church returns you to the moor. How long does it take? There’s no easy answer to this – allow two hours although experience tells me there are so many distractions along the way, including the Rockford Inn, that it can take much, much longer. Whether you want a quick sprint or a leisurely amble good supportive footwear is essential as is the ability to climb hefty hills.

Brendon Common

There is plentiful parking at Scobhill Gate, the cattle grid on the B3223 that denotes the westernmost boundary of Brendon Common. From here walks radiate across the 2000 acres of heather moorland but our route takes us over the cattle grid into farmed country and turns right by the hairpin bends at Brendon Manor Stables.

Scobhill Gate

After a few hundred yards the road, which is flanked by hedges of hazel, ash, furze, bramble and bilberry (known locally as wurts), meets Gratton Lane. This is very much ‘home’ territory for me, for it is here at Brendon Barton that I arrived as a lad to work and play in 1968. Opposite the farm there are fine views of Brendon church and in the far distance Countisbury Common and the sea.

Brendon Barton 1968

Brendon Church 1968 (2) copyright.jpg

Walking along Gratton Lane is lovely at any time of the year but is at its best in spring when the beech hedges are bursting into leaf and primroses and bluebells nestle at their feet. These banks are an ancient method of providing shelter, as well as a barrier to livestock, from the fierce gales and snowstorms that sweep in from the Atlantic. The banks stand about five feet in height, lined with stone with the beech planted above.

Gratton Lane

Just as the lane starts to descend it enters woodland and it is here – just past the warning sign denoting the ford that crosses the road – that a footpath is taken to the left. The path follows a pretty stream as it tumbles over rocks down to join the East Lyn River. It is here that the unwary walker can also take a tumble as the path crosses outcrops of rock that become quite slippery when damp. This stream has everything a larger one would have – cascades, waterslides, ferns growing from niches – but all in miniature. Despite its diminutive size it once powered a sawmill. Waterfalls (2) copyright.jpg

The mill has long been a ruin and is now fenced for safety but the rusting ironwork is still visible. Just beyond the old building the path joins the road. Turn left and follow the lane to the hamlet of Rockford. You are now walking in the Brendon valley with its beechwoods clinging to the steep hills high above, home to a number of rare rowan trees (Sorbus) unique to the area. The East Lyn River is a major river; when water levels are low it is difficult to imagine its ferocity when in spate. In 1952 it destroyed bridges, houses and lives as it passed through the valley culminating in the flood disaster at Lynmouth where thirty-four people lost their lives and over one hundred houses were destroyed. The Rockford Inn is a good place to stop for a beer; they also serve cream teas. Just make sure that you put the cream on the scone before the jam in the Exmoor tradition! It is possible to extend the walk to Watersmeet (where there is a National Trust tearoom) by crossing the river.

The Old Mill nr Rockford

East Lyn River

Once past Rockford the road starts to climb until it reaches Brendon church. The hill is a killer – it’s not called Church Steep for nothing! The church which nestles into the hill and looks out across the combes looks as if it has been there for centuries. In reality, it was moved stone by stone from nearby Cheriton in 1738. It is simply decorated inside but has some attractive stained glass. Brendon Barton, passed earlier, can be seen from the steps of the church. Follow the lane back to the farm; from there retrace the original route back to Scobhill Gate.

Brendon Church (5) copyright.jpg

Brendon Barton, view from the church

Happy walking!

Exmoor is a National Park in the southwest of England and straddles the counties of Devon and Somerset. Apart from miles of wonderful moorland walks, it also has the highest sea cliffs in England, pretty villages and spectacular wildlife including the majestic Red Deer. Native Exmoor ponies roam the open moor. Now a rare breed they remain virtually unchanged from pre-history.