Keeping the memories green

As I was cutting and raking the grass here this morning I started to reminisce about the significance for me of this particular piece of indeterminate rough ground that lies between our lane, on the left, and field on the right. This time of year is always a nostalgic one for me, holding many memories of births and deaths, departures and new beginnings.

Recently we forgot to celebrate the anniversary of our arrival here at our family home, 18 years ago. The weather was kind in 1994 and, as we attempted to decant the contents of two ginormous removal vans into an admittedly larger house, we barely noticed our two sons, aged 9 and 6, carrying load after load of books, games, soft toys, Lego, rugs and cushions down the lane and out of sight. After all, space, safety and freedom were what we had moved for. We found that they had set up 'camp' just beyond where the caravan now stands, on an old concrete surface which once formed the base of a small piggery. This was, they announced, their Mossy Hideout, and so it remained for several years.

Later, the footings of the old pig pens provided an excellent platform for an alfresco fireplace where I would fry smokey sausages and dampers for my sons and their friends. The second-hand caravan was purchased as a notional annexe for visitors but although it has served as a summer dwelling for the odd homeless person or nature-communing student, its main function was as a venue for teenage sleep-overs, out of earshot of the house. It's rarely used now and even when a friend of mine requested its loan for an extra-marital tryst I don't think she ever went ahead with it.

Mostly, the old piggery is now used to stash or burn garden waste. The ground has recently been severely pitted by a herd of cows who 'licked open' the gate fastening of the adjoining pasture and invaded early one damp morning. This tent has been erected here for drying only. On the right of it are buried the goat, Jemima, and sheep, Bottle, who used to browse here; another pair of goats would daily pass through a gap in the fence to graze the field. Several ducks and chickens have their graves here too - others were snatched by foxes from this very spot. In the hedge on the left St George's mushrooms emerge in the spring; blackberries are now heavy on the brambles along the opposite side.

Two other anniversaries to note: Casey, standing on an old stone gatepost, was 11 yesterday. Also 11 years ago, in a few days, I recall that I was tending a bonfire on this patch of land one afternoon when my sons returned from school and went into the house to watch television. A short time later one of them ran to tell me to come quickly, a plane had flown into a skyscraper in New York...