Selling art in the Pantiles.
They come this morning to cut down the bay tree in front of the study window. It is with mixed feeling that I see it go. There is now daylight in two rooms, which had been in perpetual gloom. The solid wall of bay leaves that I used to see when I looked up from my desk is replaced by a view of sky and hedge and of the corner of what is reputed to be the oldest house in Tunbridge Wells. But I can't help remembering, with a pang, the sickly plant in pot that I brought with me when we moved here. It hadn't occurred to me then that it would grow so tall and wide, or I would certainly have planted it elsewhere.
I see through an open window, a room with a connecting door open, and through the door another window, and through that window, an unexpected view, almost an imaginary view of another world.
3 comments:
I remember you pointing out that tree. I understand those mixed feelings for we've had similar battles with loving trees but needing light. In our previous house there was a huge cedar right in front of the living room window. What a difference it made to have sun streaming in after it was removed though at first it felt so bare and exposed to the world. Enjoy the light!
And where are your photographs in that art market?
:)
The bay tree may start springing back, of course... I love the smell and flavour of bayleaves, one of the first things I leanred to cook after I left home was a really simple potato soup flavoured with a bayleaf; I think my palate was probably more delicate then, as it seemed a great wonder that one bayleaf could create such a subtle flavour.
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