The fairy tree, aka the orange tree, is one of the few things I will miss about this particular house. All but our youngest child (who refused to take one) has hung their dummy in the branches when the time was right, ready to be collected by the dummy fairy who in exchange left a small gift the following morning. Rumour has it that the tooth fairy is also known to hang about the tree.
Strange that I’ll miss it really. I’m not that fond of eating oranges. I’m more of a crunchy apple gal. In contrast our little O. is a huge fan. Letting him pick an orange is akin to giving the kid a lolly pop, such is the excitement.
So many special memories are entwined with this tree…
Watching E & M playing with the hose and making mud, all of the children making loads and loads of juice, sitting in the boys bedroom feeding my youngest child and staring absent mindedly it green foliage and orange fruit.
Dave’s ambitions to be a master marmalade maker. And all the wonderful orange cake variations he has baked over the years. His latest being the best of all.
Cutting up fruit ready for Sunday sport, just like we did this morning for E.’s last soccer game here in these parts. Bringing loads of fruit to every match such a lovely way to build connections with other people.
And yes, those precious memories of my babies deciding to be big kids and relinquishing their dummies.