Primrose Path

We didn't linger or discuss why this was there; I didn't see any labels. 24 hectares of woodland, unwilded and curated, tidied. Exploited as a destination to visit, meet, wheel pushchairs take coffee and cake, chat, buy gifts. The sort of place we might ordinarily disdain

Today it was perfect as new, neutral ground on which to meet a grieving widow and daughter, all of us seeking a way to proceed. And the trees work their magic that transcends any window-dressing, the bright light filtered through branches was gentle, the woodpeckers were real, as were the butterflies

The bracket fungus made us gasp, even neatly stacked, and the swathe of early blue puzzled us (Italian bluebell, the internet says). I will remember it all with gratitude