Virginia Bluebells: A Walk with Gratitude

I remember the day: we were walking a hillside trail tucked into a meander along the Conestoga River, at an out-of-the-way place called Windolph Landing. I remember that it was one of those days when the isolation of grief and sorrow felt especially near and always present— why, I don't exactly recall— perhaps it was a date on the calendar, an angle of light, a gesture, a word— a sound. Beyond birdsong, the trail was quiet and secluded, and yet as we descended to the river, to the verdant, soft-ground floodplain, there was a growing sense of connection, of community— scores of solitary Virginia bluebells joined to blanket the hillside— an uplifting swath of graceful, bell-shaped flowers in varying hues of blue, pink, and lavender nodding in unison in the early spring breeze.

Of course, walking across a hillside brimming with bluebells is neither remedy for grief nor panacea for sorrow—  but time and again, moving through these out-of-the-way places stirs something good and true, filling an aching hollow of the heart with moments-to-memories of joy— and there's a feeling of gratitude, traveling a trail lined with lovely, ephemeral blooms. — B.

Some say

donning a garland of bluebells

obliges the wearer

to speak only

the truth:

that day,

the broad hillside draped in bluebells,

the sway

of bluebells dancing, each and all,

like a carillon song

of gratitude

for breeze:

in the fleeting moment,

the way seemed bright

and true.

— B.

As spring weather takes hold, it is time for the bluebells to ring out. The Virginia bluebell (Mertensia virginica) is an herbaceous perennial that blooms with clusters of stunning, bell-shaped, purplish-blue flowers draping from the end of an arching stem. Also known as Virginia cowslip, the plant is native to the Eastern United States and is ephemeral— blooming when the soil gets warm, and then going dormant again in only about a month. 

Bluebells thrive in moist woodlands, particularly near streams and floodplains where they have access to both sunlight and water. They grow low and close to the ground and can spread into broad, dense clusters of thousands of plants, creating an enchanting, delicately fragrant violet carpet. It takes years for a large colony like this— sometimes called a bluebell wood— to establish, and it can take many more years to rebuild the colony if the habitat is damaged by foot traffic. In folklore, the bluebell is a favorite of faeries— the flowering bells are said to chime when woodland pixies are called to meetings. In the human world, the bluebell has come to symbolize both humility and gratitude. If you come across a bluebell wood, be grateful, be mindful of the faeries, keep to the path, take in the sweet smell— and consider yourself most fortunate to witness its humbling spring splendor. — D.

Studies show that a routine practice of gratitude leads to a stronger immune system, fewer physical complaints, kinder and more caring behavior towards others, and ultimately more resilience through adversity. Only two simple components are involved in achieving these great benefits. The first is in noticing the good that surrounds us every day. The second is in recognizing the larger context of that good, whether through belief in a higher power, the wisdom of the natural world, or the compassion of humanity. Let the bluebells inspire you to connect with your sense of gratitude. When you notice yourself being pulled into negativity, intentionally draw your attention to the positive. Commit to noticing and appreciating the good things in your life. Tap into your creativity and express your gratitude in different ways— make notes in a journal, take a photo, send a text to a loved one, share around the dinner table, reflect in meditation or prayer, give yourself an affirmation, or say a genuine thank you to something or someone. Train your brain to look for answers to the questions: What am I truly grateful for? How has life been good to me? What assets do I have on my side as I face the challenges that life brings? — D.

from The Bluebell

There is a silent eloquence

In every wild bluebell

That fills my softened heart with bliss

That words could never tell....

— Anne Bronte, 1820-1849, English novelist and poet