Friday, 13 April 2012

St Arilda's bluebells and cowslips

It being my mother's birthday yesterday I turned down the opportunity of a jaunt to Wells in the now fully functioning Moggy with Dru Marland and John Terry, instead partaking of a carvery with my parents and my aunt in a pub on the A38 just outside Thornbury.  As I was fetching them their 'bottomless Cornish ice-cream' (sub Mr Whippy in a small glass sundae dish, self-served from a machine that oozed it out in a way that reminded me of my dog's rear end), I decided to wrest the remains of the afternoon from the jaws of defeat and take them somewhere worth going.

A churchyard is possibly not the most tactful of places to take a captive audience whose combined age is 252, but none of them had ever been there before.  And anyhow, St Arilda's is perched high on an ancient man-made tump overlooking the flood plain of the River Severn and the views are splendid.
 


This being somewhat later than 
last year's visit, the daffodils for which the churchyard is famed were mostly over, but there were bluebells, cowslips, dandelions, primroses, herb robert and lovely starry stitchwort, not to mention hedgerows crammed with still blossoming blackthorn. 


Here's my mother at 84, still blazing a trail ahead of my father and her younger sister.


 And yes, she still has enough puff to blow out all the candles in one go. Must be all that exercise she gets talking.

  

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