The journey up was lovely, the ducks were swimming about with their tiny fluffy offspring in tow, herons were feeding at the waters edge and swans were sitting proudly on huge nests of reeds at the canal side.
I had not expected to have the woods to myself as it was such a beautiful day but it seems that the lure of the canal pubs is where most people preferred to be,which was just fine by me.
There cannot be many things as good for the spirits as a walk amongst the Bluebells with birdsong in the air and the sweet aroma all around you as the sun dapples everything in glorious light as it filters through the tree top canopy.
People once believed that the bells called the fairies to meetings in the old woodlands and it took a brave person to wander through in case you were spirited off by fairy magic.
In olden times the bulbs were crushed to make a glue from the sap and it was used in starching collars and ruffs.
I heard an unusual bird song and as I looked up ,camera in hand I saw a Nuthatch as it climbed a tree , calling to another in the distance.
Bluebells only thrive in woods older than 20 years of age and they like dappled sunlight that peers through the trees.