Rowan

With only 4 weeks to go till Arlo's summer holidays there's a fair bit of reflecting going on at Family Dog HQ. So much has changed since the last summer holidays - we have a house, we have friends, we no longer feel like aliens who've been plopped here for some social experimentation.

And then there's Arlo's time in Primary One. He's gone from clinging to the railings, sobbing "please don't leave me with strangers, Mummy" to leaping up the stairs with his pals without needing to look back. He can read. He can do sums. He has had an amazing first year.

In 4 weeks, P1 will be finished. No more Mrs Milligan (aka The Loveliest Teacher Known To Man) and, actually, no more Burntisland Primary School as we currently know it. The new school opens after the summer holidays - all shiny and bright and modern. It's an exciting time for everybody.

To commemorate the old school building (I think the oldest building was built in 1800 & something. I am SO specific aren't I?) people who visited the building during the farewell open evenings were given a Rowan Tree to plant in their gardens.

In Scottish fokelore a Rowan was said to ward off malevolent beasts. Travellers were said to be protected if they lay their weary bodies under one and they helped those who were lost, metaphorically and physically. There is also talk of the Very Devil Himself hanging HIS OWN MOTHER on one, but I'm still trying to work out how to turn that into a positive spin. I'll get back to you on that.

The symbolism of giving a young tree to a small child to plant in his new family home is my angle for this though. We wanted a Rowan tree in our front garden because there had been one growing previously - as there are in many in our street - but the previous owner chopped it down because the berries were inconvenient. Yes. He chopped down a tree because of the berries. Anyway...

*Planting this tree feels like we've re-set the balance on many things. Mostly, I like to know that we'll watch this tree grow as we watch our children grow. The roots will spread and strengthen as our own children will do with their own roots, until this place is their home without question and the very idea that we used to live somewhere else will feel strange and senseless to them, like a story being told about strangers.

And one day, we'll look out at the big, strong tree and marvel at how it used to be a tiny little thing that needed protection and care and our eyes will well up as we remember the versions of our big grown children, running around as superheroes and pushing buggies and scooters, planting sunflowers and pumpkins and rolling down grassy hills with joy and freedom spread across their faces.

And I hope against hope we will be able to smile at the memories and know we were the luckiest. And the happiest. And the most loved. A lifetime will have happened and it will have been lovely.

The best bit is that we have all of that right now, so the tree is rooting us in the here-and -now. The hardest part is learning to enjoy this wee moment as it unfolds.

*Looking back on this blip I need to remind myself about taking this photo. I rolled around on my back for about 10 minutes in the early evening light, trying to get the angle right. My poor neighbours. Imagine living next door to us!!