POISED and elegant on slender stems, their delicate flowers blue as summer skies, harebells are ever a pleasure to encounter. They nod in meadows, but are equally happy on high hills and sand dunes, in poor, dry soil on chalky grasslands and acid heaths and even in cracks in walls and cliff faces. They are more resilient than their modest beauty might suggest. But they troubled our forefathers.
It was supposed that harebells chimed, unheard by mere humans, to summon fairies to gatherings. The fairies of medieval times were not the frivolous little gossamer beings of Victorian children’s tales. They were moody, inclined