I wrote this a few days ago on a lovely bright day when I was feeling jolly good about all things. Today is grey and wet, and I am cold and tired, so finding this made me feel a little more Hopeful...
Eight years ago W and I came here and wandered around the streets, wondering if this was the place for us to settle and raise a family. It was a beautiful Spring day, the sun was shining and we looked at all the Victorian terraces and thought they were pretty. Not to mention near the sea.
But the thing I remember most about that day was the magnolias. Every other house seemed to have one. Different shapes, sizes and colours, but all magnolias, all in bloom, all beautiful. We decided we would have to have one.
So after our wedding and our big move from a two up-two down in London to a Proper Family Home, we bought a magnolia. It was small and sat happily at the corner of our shed.
Fast forward seven and a half years and our magnolia is a nine foot beauty, providing privacy and prettiness to the patio that now sits where the shed was. It is beautiful and I love it. And it is coming alive again for the Spring.
Magic...x
I notice, glancing over my shoulder at the garden, that the magnolia has definate white tips to all those lovely buds. I have a nasty feeling I am going to miss the flowers while I am at work this week!
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