We live in a bowl of green. Drive up the hill out of our beautiful, creative, messy city. Drive out past the Victorian terraces, past the massive houses on the hill until the road turns green. To your left lies the suburb we live in.
We live away over the hill, a place usually only known for it’s large green 24 hr supermarket. We live on the edge of the bowl with views of green all around. Everywhere I look out of the window I can see green hills, rolling downs, colourful gardens and houses spread out.
I run and run around the rim of the bowl, I run past gardens stuffed with bluebells, luminous tulips and trees bursting with cherry blossom all around. I run, smiling and laughing at the insane beauty of this world. I run with my soul open wide as I gaze and gaze in delight at the panorama before me.
Music sings in my ears, music from a long ago past brings me back to University days and heading out after dinner to play in the Botanic Gardens just up the road from our college, hopping over the fence we would claim them as our own and enjoy the green space, the golden sunsets and the wonder of a world to claim as our own. May evenings, exam revision put aside, the sheer life force of spring.
Memory is a powerful thing, pulled back into the past by similar smells, sights and music. I smile wryly and my feet pound on. Glad of being here, now, in this place, with these loves, with joy at this life right here. Glad of places I’ve been but more glad to wind my way to the now of home. Glad of living in our bowl of green.