Orchard

Climbing the other side of the valley, to the old orchard, finding and rejoicing in a pasture completely blanketed in long stemmed Blue bells, whose heads folded over like tiny bells and stems when gently pulled, allowed you to suck out a sweet sharp sap, in our joy we would pick, great, as far as the arms could reach, bundles of flowers to take home this wasn’t encouraged, other times the orchard provided for our awe, tall waving, strong yellow flowered, deep green slender leafed daffodils, or we discovered the hill blanketed in giant primuli of many luscious colors nestled in the grass Even the hedge rows revealed secrets, dock leaf spiny wort wild holly hock or rhubarb leafy plants and vines, so many different shapes and kinds, but watch the stinging nettles, they got you with red, Have to be scratched wields. Memories of foxes, rabbits, Newts loping or scurrying out of our joyous passing.