Our house is currently on the market after deciding to up sticks to be nearer the children’s school. And I must confess, after nearly 10 years here, the one thing I will be the most upset to leave behind is our back garden.
Our garden where every year I do battle with an army of snails.
Our garden where the apple tree thrives, bought as a moving in present by my dear grandpa who died five years ago.
Our garden where we play football, and tig, and rugby and badminton and a game where you basically roll around and wrestle on the grass. Invented by the hubby.
Our garden with the lovely ferns, the Solomon’s Seal, the stunning white-stemmed Silver Birch tree and the little log pile which is home to the insects.
Our garden with the amazing Japanese Acer. The Acer I bought during my lunch hour at work six years ago while kicking around Coventry. I paid about £5 for this sad-looking, slightly wonky stalk which is now a show-stopping canopy of deep red leaves which marks the gateway to our back garden. And which, when I visited a garden centre recently, realised is probably worth about £400. Sob.
Our south-facing, flourishing, green and pleasant garden.
I know you can recreate what you once had, but really, there are so many good times wrapped up in those leaves, so many memories, so many favourites, that I think I really will shed a tear when I have to shut the door on her one last time.
This post is for Week 60 of The Gallery: My Backyard.
If you’re new and want to know what The Gallery is, go andread here, and then come right back and join in!
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Now go forth and show some big blog love. This virtual gallery of photographs is about enjoying each other’s work, so go make someone’s day.
I can’t wait to see what you come up with.