We are not travelling to run away, or because something is lacking in our lives (other than sunshine). We love where we live. We love our little arts and crafts house with it’s heart cutout banisters and beautiful fireplaces with their built in overmantels. We love our tree lined street full of families with small children. We love our local high street with it’s market full of friendly stall holders. Fruit always taste better when it’s been sold by Ted and Barbara. We love our children’s school with it’s teachers who dance to the Glee soundtrack and give lessons in den building. We love that every time we walk down the street we end up chatting to friends until someone’s child starts yelling “stop talking Mummy”. We will miss all of this while we are away and it will soften the blow of coming home again.
We’d bought our house before we walked through the front door. It was the cherry tree that sold it to us. We came to look at it on a rainy May day. As we huddled in the porch, waiting for the estate agent, we both looked at the beautiful mature cherry tree standing on the pavement in front the house and separately thought “this is where I want to live”. We were lucky enough to get our wish. Every April, for two glorious weeks, I wake up to the most beautiful, palest pink, double cherry blossoms outside my bedroom window. The top picture is the bark of MY tree. I walk past it countless times every week. Sometimes, I stop and look at it, and I remember how lucky I am to live where I do.
This post was written for The Gallery over at Sticky Fingers. This week’s theme is ‘Outside My Front Door’.