When I told a friend that I’d be spending another sunny weekend exploring the Isle of Wight she replied ‘You must know every blade of grass on that island’. Far from it! The longer I live here, the more hidden corners I discover. Whilst it’s only 28 miles across, there’s still so much yet to explore.
Even familiar spots feel new as the seasons change. The brilliant mustard yellow is already fading from the fields, and the wild garlic doesn’t hit your nose like it did a week ago. The bluebells are still out in Borthwood Copse, and I soared above them on the rope swing to my dizzy heart’s content.
This recent read discussed how children are taught about icebergs and rain forests, without ever knowing the name of their local wildflowers. We risk making conservation a too-big-to-tackle problem when really it can begin with a bug hotel in your back garden.
We have a book of Isle of Wight wild flowers, full of beautiful drawings. I’d like to be able name a few more, and avoid future heated hawthorn v cow parsley debates (don’t ask!) Then perhaps I’d be a little closer to knowing every blade of grass.