Looking out at the garden on this rainy day, I can see a blue haze. The bluebells are out in force and the smell is heavenly. I have a bunch in a vase, in front of me as I type.
They remind me of the old playground game that we used to play-
In and out the dusty bluebells,
In and out the dusty blue bells,
In and out the dusty bluebells,
Who will be my master?
Pitter patter,
pitter patter,
on your shoulder.
Pitter patter,
pitter patter,
on your shoulder.
Pitter patter,
pitter patter,
on your shoulder.
You will be my master.
All sung and played while weaving in and out of the people in the little circle.
Happy innocent days, well before the advent of ipods and computers.
