Bouts of overwhelming homesickness used to be a daily occurrence when I was a child living in boarding school.    We’d moved to live in Dubai and back in the 1970’s ex-pat kids mostly stayed in England for their education.  I think I used to torture my parents by writing and telling them how mournful I was and demanding to be removed forthwith from this big drafty place and brought home where the sun always shone.  I so wanted to be at home where I could spend my days on the beach or at the pool all day.

Eventually I got over being separated from my parents and dreams of being a pool babe.  40 years on I very occasionally get those familiar pangs of homesickness now I’m living far away once again. But these dayes I’ve come to realise it’s a seasonal thing. The changing of the seasons makes the differences more acute and the urge to be together to share those changes grows. I want my nearest and dearest to see what I see, smell what I smell and pass the time of day with me soaking in the moment of nothing in particular but something that should be treasured nevertheless.

Seeing the fruit trees come into blossom is just one of those moments I wanted to share. So I will.  In a 21st century kind of way. And now I feel much better.