Algy could feel that the weather was changing. It really was spring at last, and to prove it, bluebells were suddenly popping up everywhere. Algy adores bluebells, so he spent a happy hour among them in the dappled shade, listening to the first two swallows chattering to each other as they swooped around overhead.

          A fine and subtle spirit dwells
          In every little flower,
          Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
          With more or less of power.
          There is a silent eloquence
          In every wild bluebell
          That fills my softened heart with bliss
          That words could never tell.

[Algy is quoting from the poem The Bluebell by Anne Brontë.]

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