White, Pink and Blue Bluebells! Mixing Art and Science

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.

Anne Brontë

Some things in life is simply confusing. Like finding white and pink bluebells.

We made a mind map to sort out our confusion.

There are two different types of bluebells in the UK.


Hyacinthoides non-scripta (Common Bluebell)” by MichaelMaggs


Hyacinthoides hispanica pm” by Peter A. Mansfeld.

We had picked the Spanish bluebells and there are pink and white varieties of Spanish bluebells. You can also find the odd white common bluebell. To confuse us even more in Scotland the bluebells or harebell look like the photo below. There are white and pinkish Scottish bluebells as well.

Using Latin names when you talk about flowers may be difficult, the names are hard to pronounce but it also makes it easier to understand what people are talking about. Carl von Linné was a botanist and zoologist who laid the foundation for how we use Latin names to classify plants and animals.


“Campanula rotondifolia”

I have written several blog posts about mind mapping so if you want to read type in mind mappin in the search box (click on the mind map to enlarge the mind maps).


We made some flower panels.

  • cut frames from cardboard paper
  • cover with plastic, we used plastic bags
  • fasten with scotch tape
  • arrange the flowers in the bags and tie ribbons around the stems

Hang in the window and admire!


Anne’s sister Emeily wrote this poem.

To A Bluebell – Emily Brontë

Sacred watcher, wave thy bells!
Fair hill-flowers and woodland child,
Dear to me in deep green dells,
Dearest on the mountains wild.

Bluebell, even as all divine
I have seen my darling shine ;
Bluebell, even as fair and frail
I have seen my darling fail.
Lift thy head and speak to me,
Soothing thoughts are breathed by thee.

Thus they whisper, ‘Summer’s sun
Lights me till my life is done;
Would I rather choose to die
Under winter’s stormy sky?

Glad I bloom, and calm I fade,
Dews of heaven are round me stayed;
Mourner, mourner, dry thy tears,
Sorrow comes with lengthened years.’

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