Reborn

The last time I put a picture of this Acer in my journal it seemed to be weeping for my poor Dad, who was at the time very ill in a London hospital.  Since then, of course, he has passed away and life has become different again for my family and for me.  My sister and I have made a start on keeping Dad's garden tidy for Mum, and last weekend and this I've been watching the little Acer tree's glorious rebirth.  Instead of looking sad as it did in my previous photo, it now burns fiery and bright once again when the afternoon sun catches its fresh new leaves.

I passed a bittersweet hour or so this afternoon tending the triangular flowerbed that has the Acer at its heart.  I felt Dad's presence close to me as I worked, and I missed him so much.  But the sun emerged from the clouds, only birdsong broke the peace, and I breathed in clean air a world away from the busy, traffic-choked streets of London.