Lessons Learned in a Bluebell Wood

My love of bluebells is no secret.

They bloom in the woods near my B&B every year in late April or early May.

I’ve watched their pink and purple buds turn into intense, periwinkle blue flowers, then fade to a soft, sky blue, since I was a little girl.

I’ve written a book named Blue Belle. The B&B and tea house I’ve owned for 25 years is called the Blue Belle Inn.

Familiar as bluebells are to me, I’ve recently learned a few new lessons while walking through the bluebell wood.

It’s possible to be broken, bent, and beautiful at the same time.  One most likely leads to the other, like the beauty of a mosaic made from broken pieces.

You can focus on the beauty of a place, or the ugliness. Stuff happens. It’s your choice what you dwell on.

For every hill you struggle to climb, there’s an easy cruise down the other side, and a beautiful view from the top besides.

Even when you feel hollow and empty inside, you’re a thing of beauty to someone who needs shelter from the wind.

Finding your own little niche to grow in is one of life’s greatest gifts.

No matter how bad you have it, someone else always has it worse.

Being front and center isn’t always the best place to be. Wallflowers are much less likely to get stepped on than flowers that grow in the middle of a pathway.

You can lift your eyes upward to the tree tops, or follow the shadows down into the valley.  Your choice.

Being uprooted is never fun, but there’s always a bright spot on the horizon.

Sunshine or shadow – it makes all the difference.

Some people live lengthy lives in obscurity, others are chosen to be loved intensely for but a moment.

Some are fortunate enough to find a clear, straight, well-marked path.

Everything you do and say is a reflection on the things you love most – the real you.

Sometimes the path winds  so much that you can’t see what’s around the bend. But that’s okay. It’s good to be surprised.

‘

I’m in a time of transition in my life. Are you? Wandering in the bluebell wood, I was reminded that there’s no better way to find your way than in new lessons learned from the comfort of the familiar.