In Scotland, the humble bluebell, is known as a symbol of remembrance. I try my best never to forget that, and unless Im mistaken, bluebells normally bloom around the end of May. This year, because of such a long drawn out and severe winter, it was June before they appeared.
Its when the bluebells bloom that I always seem to remember my mother because I usually have to phone her up to be reminded when the bluebells will be blooming at Carstramon Woods near Gatehouse of Fleet. I have found this wood has one of the best displays of bluebells in Scotland.
It’s a special place for me as it’s a place that only my mother and I go as none of the rest of my family are interested in remembering the humble bluebell. Every time either she or me have been to the woods .. its been together. Its almost like our own private pilgrimage of mother and son.
I think it’s a special place for her too and whenever she thinks of bluebells she thinks of me. Not all bluebells are perfect, I guess that’s why she thinks of me too. This is a white bluebell but I can't for the life of me remember why ?
This year as we walked among the ancient trees and billions of blooming bluebells, we also remembered my father. Then we remembered all the other people who are no longer in our lives, not that there were many as I had forgotten most .. but there were some.
I also remembered to take my camera so took these photographs in remembrance of my other camera which drowned at Loch Craignish. In true remembrance fashion, Im now going to stop and give some silence as you wander through the woods with no words. I hope you spare a moments thought for those who you have forgot.
Thanks also for remembering me.