Everybody I speak with has that one thing from childhood that they loved in the garden most. Some say it was the fountain where the birds came to splish and splash, others recall it being the long bristling branches of a weeping willow, for me it was without a doubt the garden swing. It is where I remember my mother reading, crocheting, braiding my hair, practicing church hymns, and most importantly listening to the sounds of the garden. We sat on that swing together nearly every Sunday together for over fifteen years. Many a decision was made while seated upon it. Little did she, or I, know all of the answers she provided me about life, love and even music.
This week I will be awaiting the arrival of my new swing, as the old one needs to be made redundant, if we are to be able to continue to refer to our garden as polished. As you might imagine, the choice is an important one. I have set my decision upon an ammonite inspired design, reminiscent of the one I grew up with. I allowed my daughter to select the pattern for the upholstered cushion, and she did a great job. As my own daughter will soon turn twelve, it is critical in my mind that the swing continue to be a place she loves to sit with me on Sundays. We have few family traditions, but this is one I intend to pass on for generations.