Page 5 of Hope and Happiness in Bluebell Wood
Merlin doesn’t seem to have a preference; he’s simply happy to be out for a walk.
We follow the road that runs through the centre of Bluebell Wood towards the outskirts of the village, and to my intense relief the few people we see are in passing cars, so there’s no need for interaction with anyone. Merlin, still wary after his accident, cowers a little way into the verge when each car drives past us, so I bend down and try to reassure him it’s quite safe. It’s clear both of us still have much healing to do.
I’m all too aware in a village as small as this one that it’s onlya matter of time before a ‘newcomer’ is noticed, but as far as I’m concerned, the longer I remain anonymous the better. Merlin has his issues with moving vehicles, and I have mine with many things, including people. I’m happy to try to avoid his triggers, and I’m pretty sure he’d have no problem if we avoided mine. We are going to get on just fine.
The pavement suddenly comes to an abrupt halt, as the main road continues out of the village and down a hill. I’m about to turn back, when I spy a hand-carved wooden sign pointing to the left of us. TO THE WOOD, it says in burnt lettering.
I look in the direction of the sign and see a narrow dirt track with a few trees either side of it.
We’ll be fine in a wood, won’t we?I think, peering as far down the track as I can. It’s clearly a well-used entrance: I can still see foot and paw prints from previous walkers on the damp ground. But the light is fading and it’s getting colder . . . not that either of those things bother me, but what if we bump into another dog and its owner taking their evening walk through the wood?
‘Perhaps if we just go a little way?’ I tell Merlin. ‘So we can scout it out for another time.’
But Merlin is already pulling towards the wood, sniffing the ground in front of him, so I bravely let him guide me down the path towards the trees.
We only have to walk a little way before the narrow path we’re on opens up into a clearing. There’s a rustic wooden bench on one side, with an information sign next to it; the entire edge of the clearing is lined with tall trees, with many more lined up behind them like rows of soldiers. ‘This must be the actual wood the village is named after; I had no idea it wasso close to our cottage.’ I look down at Merlin, but he seems more interested in being let off his lead.
‘I hope you’re as well trained as they said you were at the shelter,’ I tell him, bending down to unfasten the lead from his collar. We’d been on a few walks together now, but this was the first time I’d attempted to let him off his lead. ‘I’m trusting you, Merlin, and you don’t know how hard that is for me to say these days – even to you. Please don’t run off and let me down, will you?’
Merlin looks up at me with a knowing expression, and I’m more certain than ever that he understands exactly what I’m saying to him. ‘You’re a smart little thing,’ I tell him. ‘Just like your namesake.’
I unfasten his lead and Merlin trots off to investigate a nearby tree stump. I watch him for a few moments, still wary. But he doesn’t look like he’s going to shoot off into the trees beyond; he seems perfectly happy investigating and marking this new territory.
I stand for moment, and with my eyes closed I take a deep breath. I’d done a lot of that lately, usually in response to something triggering my anxiety. But today I do it because I want to. I want to breathe in some of the clean air the trees provide, perhaps I might even absorb some of the strength they exude as they soar up into the sky above me.
I do this a few times, and with each new breath I definitely feel a little calmer, and to my surprise, I also feel a sense of strength begin to pulse through my body.
‘Gosh,’ I say, opening my eyes again. ‘I didn’t expect I’dactuallyfeel anything.’
I look around me again. There is definitely something special about this place. I can’t put my finger on what; all Iknow is for once I don’t feel scared, it’s almost as if I’m being comforted by the age and wisdom of the ancient trees, as if their great branches are enveloping me in an enormous protective blanket.
‘I had a feeling I’d like it here in Bluebell Wood,’ I say, smiling up at them. ‘I’m glad you’re so close to my cottage. I think Merlin and I might spend quite a lot of time here with you all.’
Merlin is still happily pootling around the clearing, so I wander over to the information sign to see what it says:
WELCOME TO BLUEBELL WOOD.
This beautiful ancient woodland consists mainly of oak, ash and hazel trees. The flora here is diverse, especially in spring when there are good numbers of wood anemones, wild garlic, and a spectacular display of bluebells – hence its name!
Please don’t be tempted to pick any flowers to take home with you. Bluebells are protected in the UK under the Wildlife and Countryside Act, 1981, and it is an offence to remove them from the ground.
Enjoy your time here, but please leave our wood as you found it.
Underneath there’s a little map showing a few different footpaths that can be taken around the wood. I’m not too sure where Bluebird Cottage is in relation to the paths, but I guess it must be just on the edge of the trees – as the crow flies, not that far from where we are now. There are a lot of tall treesedging one side of the cottage garden; I’d naively assumed they must have been planted there by a previous owner, but now I realise they are most probably a part of the ancient woodland. I wonder if there might even be a secret entrance from the garden directly through to the wood because it’s so close, and I make a mental note to check it out tomorrow when it’s light again.
I turn away from the sign and look for Merlin, but he’s still happily exploring the clearing.
‘Shall we wander a little further?’ I ask, already feeling so at home here in the wood that I don’t want to leave just yet.
He lifts his head to look at me.
‘How about this way?’ I suggest, pointing to one of the footpaths.
Merlin obediently follows me, and we walk deeper into the wood together. Even though our way is clearly marked by narrow paths, the further we venture, the darker it becomes under the canopy of the trees, and as the trees begin to look even older, the denser the undergrowth becomes around our feet. Some of the trees have gnarled, twisty bark that gives the impression of them being even more ancient, and I wonder as we pass by, how many people they might have seen walk underneath them over the many years they’ve stood here. I’d hoped to spot some of the infamous bluebells the sign had talked about, but there are only occasional bunches of little white flowers.
‘Maybe it’s too early for bluebells,’ I say to Merlin. ‘I’ll have to look it up when we get back. As you know, wildlife isn’t really my strong point.’
‘Mid-April onwards,’ a voice calls, making me physically jump and drop Merlin’s folded lead. I swivel around to see aman jogging along the path behind me. I’d been so wrapped up in my thoughts and feeling about the trees, I hadn’t even heard him. I berate myself for letting my guard drop.
