At the foot of this flight of stone steps is a young cherry tree, as eye-catching now as it is in early spring when it’s covered in white blossom. Every day more of these golden leaves fall.
Sometimes I stop on the path at the top of the steps and gaze down, and sometimes I descend, to stand right under it and be enveloped in the lower branches and have my face brushed by its leaves.
Standing under this tree, with the last of the afternoon sun catching the reds and yellows and setting them on fire, with wet grass under my feet and the sky hardly visible for golden leaves, I can think of absolutely nothing else but being here. Right now, there simply isn’t another place on earth I’d rather be. Right now, this is everything.