Bluebells in the Woods: March 31, 2015

 

The wind seemed to rise as she walked under the trees.  It sang in their tops, but it was silent beneath.  The dead leaves crackled underfoot; among them sprang up the pale spring flowers, the loveliest of the year – blue flowers and white flowers, trembling on cushions of green moss.  Spring was sad always, she through; it brought back memories.  All passes, all changes, she thought, as she climbed the little path between the trees.”  The Years (263)