OLD CHURCHYARDS TELLING OF LIVES LIVED HERE LONG BEFORE MY TIME

This is an anonymous story collected from the public as part of THE WOKINGHAM ARC PROJECT.

I am me.

Some things that make me feel alive in my locale are the magical woodlands covered in snow, little ducklings learning to swim in the lakes and popping back up to the surface like little corks, wild spaces, ancient trees, any trees, wildlife scuttling in the undergrowth and glimpsed at a distance, or unexpectedly right in front of me. I love the smell of pine trees in the summer, walking across pine needle surfaces that are bouncy like a sprung floor, wondering what treasures from history lie beneath the fields undiscovered (yet) and where the Romans walked. Old churchyards telling of lives lived here long before my time, dragonflies flitting overhead and bats almost touching me with their dark wings.

To me, home is family, open wild spaces, a house I live in.