Hello tree with purple flowers. Hello little brain.


I was sitting in our backyard the other day surveying our overgrown, clearly untendered garden and admiring our whole family commitment to junkyard chic. We had really come together on this one. Nodding and smiling and noting the tasks we should probably get on to next spring, I was struck by a beautiful tree adorned with enormous purple flowers. It was right in front of me, in the middle of our very own weedville. It was like a luminous violet jewel atop a steaming pile of mud (or similar). Although it seemed quite mature, I had never seen this purple blooming tree during the 4 years we had lived here.

I asked my husband ‘has that tree always been there?’


‘Is this the first time those purple flowers have come out?’

‘They come out every spring.’

‘How come I have never noticed them?’

‘Because this is the first time your brain has come out.’

‘Oh. Ha.’

It was hard to dispute. And by my daft reply, I’m sure in past times my response would have been swift and witty, it was evident my brain was still not quite all the way out (I wouldn’t have to look far for more evidence of that – just last week I gave my youngest some giant rusty secateurs to play with so I could get the vacuuming done).

I can only assume my brain, and the power of observation, is seeping back in a direct time relationship to my children’s growth and independence (where is the graph for that?!). With my baby boy turning 4, my eyes finally feel free to look atthings that are more than 2 feet above the ground and have hair. It’s terribly exciting, and I can’t imagine what might emerge before me next spring. Perhaps we have a pool.

junkyard chic without the chic.

junkyard chic without the chic.

Violet jewel.

Violet jewel.

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