our beautiful tree

I've said it before, and I'll say it again - the big old horse chestnut tree in our backyard makes our house. Absolutely. When we first moved in 12 months ago we had no idea what it was - some sort of oak? A liquid amber? The family who used to farm Brindabella came to the rescue by informing us it was a horse chestnut tree. I'd never even heard of them, on my grandparents farm Ballina Park there are two enormous 80+ year old plain old chestnut trees, but horse chestnuts were...well a different chestnut altogether. My sister recently told me that in London the parks are full of these trees, but the Brits think that these are the real deal chestnuts and the 'regular' chestnut trees are quite the novelty? I don't know...all I know is that they are both beautiful trees. Big, beautiful, strong, shady in summer, crunchy in autumn - just the way I like my trees.

This beauty is estimated to be about 60-70 years old, the elderly gentleman who built the ramshackle farmhouse in 1938 told us he remembers planting it 'Oh sometime in the 40's, love!' It's towering limbs are bare all through the cold Thorpdale winters and spring into blossom come September. 

On Monday I got a phone call from lovely Lou - she lives an hour further away from Melbourne than me and was on her journey home from the big smoke, would I mind popping on the kettle for a quick cuppa and battery re-charge? Of course not! We had tea out by our beautiful tree, chatted about all things weddings and her own beauties - her girls Sunny and Scout - explored my garden and became professional egg collectors. 

Lou arrived bearing a sweet birthday surprise - these lovely roses. I am such a roses girl, and promptly put them in a vase jug to admire and ooh and ahh over (and have been doing ever since)...

But back to the tree...next to the tree stands our 'wishing well'. When we moved here it was covered in goodness knows what (moss, mildew, creepy vines and dead plants in it). We debated whether to push it over entirely but decided to keep it. We then discovered (from the lovely elderly couple who's home this used to be, a wealth of knowledge!) that the 'well' was in fact built to be a kiln. The former lady of the house at Brindabella was a keen ceramicist and would fire her pottery in the 'well' - there is even a vent on the side which made oh so much more sense when we found out it was a kiln! We considered making a water feature out of the well/kiln but ended up filling it with soil and planting it out with petunias earlier in the year, and now strawberries from my generous friend Amy. Alas I think the well/kiln is somewhat lacking in the drainage department and the strawberries are not thriving. We'll see...

The beautiful tree has shades us for spring and summer barbeques under it's branches and produces lovely crunchy leaves through Autumn. I gaze at it from the kitchen sink, play with Tessa beneath it and look upon it as somewhat of a guardian of the ramshackle farmhouse. I especially love the initials carved into it's big knotted trunk - I wonder the stories this tree would tell if it could talk?

Love you long time our beauty, we will miss you terribly also. So many things to miss, but so many things to look forward to.

Images by Emma Durkin for Cinderella at Brindabella