Martin and Alison B reminded me of this. It still means a lot to me: that walnut tree with the rope swing chair; the woodshed full of wood we inherited at the end of the garden; those shrubs that all went pop with a big sound, all exactly on the same day they exploded each year; the constant rotation of flowers that the clever previous owners had planted to give constant surprises and pleasure; that fridge and rope swing seat on the terrace with the big table we salvaged when the kitchen was renovated; those big beams, similarly salvaged for seats around the fire pit under the walnut tree and that garage full of ancient communist days memorabilia – wood burners, old tools and cigar boxes etc… ; those birds that nested on the terrace outside the door and listening to the sounds on the terrace… https://wheatypetes.world/2016/08/15/the-sounds-of-silence/