On a summery day recently, we headed for the hills – Boar’s Hill, to be exact – for a picnic. In sharp contrast to the cool blues and greens of Shotover, Boar’s Hill blasted us with a blinding palate of yellow and lime.
We loved every minute of it, though sunglasses were definitely required to deal with the buttercup onslaught. (Perhaps a “mania of bluebells” has its equivalent in an “onslaught of buttercups”?)
Bonny Oxford was just visible in the hazy distance.
If you haven’t been to Boar’s Hill, Oxfordians, you oughta.
We parked ourselves beneath this magnificent tree. I’d quite like to carve my name into it, one day.
Our view from the picnic blanket was amazing.
Though my attempt at capturing a view of the picnic blanket wasn’t. Selfie fail.
After stuffing ourselves with blueberries (and other less healthy food), we discovered this beautiful spot on our way back home.
As my grandfather would say: “magic”!