Home by Norette Bambury I have always been enchanted by the whistle of the breeze as it dances through the trees, the soft trickle of the crawling river and the ever lingering air of freshness. This is why I have loved, love and always will love an area of land directly behind my house. It’s like an escape route from the problems and troubles of life. My house is surrounded by huge, tall oak trees. When I was very young I would occupy myself for endless hours, climbing from arm to arm of these trees, becoming more brave each time and sometimes daring to reach for the thinner, less supportive fingertips. It was while on these crusades that I stumbled upon the most magnificent tree. Magical in the eyes of a six year old. It must have had the widest and thickest branches ever known, which most of took the shape of armchairs. In summer when fully leaved I could lose myself and disappear from the watchful eye of my mother from the kitchen window. I would sit quietly, hypnotised and soothed by the river’s song. My dogs would join me now and then for company. They were also bewildered as they sat on the river bank a few feet below my dangling legs. Winter was my enemy as it took the joy of my peaceful little paradise away from me. Its harsh elements left the trees naked and the river would rush angrily. It was during one winter that the river rose dramatically. Along with strong winds a tree on the opposite bank of the river was knocked and it hung miserably just above the level of the water. This now became a new seat as the danger of falling in was increased, therefore so was my interest. As the years went by I graced my friends with the knowledge of my fortress of solitude. Quest for adventure brought the launch of the swing across the river. Soon enough every child in Ballyconry was being scolded on a regular basis for coming home soaked to the skin and riddled with insect bites. My mother may not have been able to see where I was but she could always hear me – and about twenty other children! We grew up on the bank of that river. Every summer the swing was made higher, the stunts became more daring and the splash became louder and someone plunged in, to the excitement of the rest of us. Conversation and attitude slowly but surely matured and eventually interest declined and attention was no longer focussed down-stream from Casey’s Bridge. Every now and then I find myself attracted to the tree stump or branch and sit quietly and let the memories unfold in my mind. All troubles are washed away briefly as I wonder what I would have done without this place. Would I have grown up to be the person I am or developed the friendships I have. I don’t know how my life will pan out, in the future or where I’ll be, but I’m sure of one thing – trees won’t be in short supply.