We live in a village, which was once separate from the town, although now there is no distinction between them. The estate where we live was built in the early 80s, and no doubt the villagers moaned about that, and now there are more and more houses being built on any patch of green that can be found.
I lament the loss of the green spaces, but it would be hypocritical of me to deprive newcomers of their right to live where I already do. Many of the houses look ugly, with their big solar panels on the roof and higgledy piggledy extensions which have appeared over the years, as families grow and needs change. Our own house which was originally a 2 bedroom semi is now like a Tardis, with an office here and a laundry room there, and extra bedrooms and bathrooms. It's a very ugly house from the outside, but it is what's inside that matters. And if all six children want to come and stay at Christmas, we can do it, just. We have talked about moving, but I am not sure that we would ever find a house we could afford with this much space. No doubt there will come a day when we realise that we need less, instead of more, but we are not there yet.
We took the dogs for a walk on Sunday, when F, the eldest of the tribe came for Sunday lunch. As we walked down through the orchard that runs alongside the back of our house, we passed the rotting apple trees which have always been there and which still bear fruit every year, but now the branches are looking gnarled and rotten, and in some places the trunks have split.
When we bought the house, we were told by the solicitor that there was a covenant in the deeds protecting the green land and orchard to the rear, due to some connection with the church. As we walked, Mr C wondered whether the powers that be are waiting for the trees to die, so that they can reclaim the land and sell it all off for housing. The green was one of the reasons that we bought the house.
My three all learned to ride their bikes there, and we now have a camouflaged gate which opens out onto it, although from the outside it just looks like fence. It's a lovely spot where we have picnicked, read books sitting on a blanket in the shadow of the big tree on the hill, caught Smudge the visiting rabbit who a 3 year old L helped to escape, lain drunk on the grass at midnight and sledged down the hill in the snow.
We collect apples in the Autumn for crumble, holly and tree ivy for decorations at Christmas, sloes at this time most years to leave in the freezer until the following year and then throw away because there is no room in the freezer. We have had more than our fair share of joy from it. It is still well used by dog walkers, families and teenaged snoggers, and I hope it isn't lost. But if it is, it's not the end of the world.
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