We have lived in our house for three and a half years now, and today I sat on the back step in the sunshine and I thought 'I really love this place'. It has taken me this long to feel that way but without realising it, it has crept into my soul and it now feels like home, really home.
When I moved from my last house it was with a great sadness, which might seem strange when you know it was to move in with the lovely man who is now my husband, but nonetheless it's true.
It was architecturally nondescript, rather small, overlooked by everybody, and with hardly a tree in sight. Yet I loved it because it was full of happy memories of my children growing up, it felt safe and loved and comfy. When we left I missed it dreadfully for months and months.
Our current house is at the end of a no-through road, private and wild, large and beautiful with lovely architectural features, a big garden full of trees and birds and lots of room for everybody. But it's not in such a 'nice middle-class' area, and we have lots of noisy, chaotic students who leave rubbish and shopping trolleys for us to tidy up. It took me a long time to feel this place was familiar and safe. We worked hard to make it beautiful and home-like, but even then the emotions didn't follow obediently.
I guess it's about people, the passing of time, and creativity. Making a garden, watching it grow, eating with family and friends, laughing, crying, sewing and painting and spreading things out on the floor... over and over, gradually and slowly, a place feels like home.
I'm so glad the tide has slowly changed. Life continues to be complex and messy but it is wonderful to feel at peace in my space.
I took all these photos on Thursday in the lovely spring light. Everything is so green, it is quite magical.