I used to live in a rickety flat that had a single old creaky staircase to get up to the front door, and a little grassy terrace area. Only I really ever used the grassy bit. The stairs had a pohutakawa tree growing essentially right through them, making walking up or down them hazardous. Especially when drunk.

I would not classify that period of my life to be “happy” by any stretch, but that tree signified being “home.” It was like the guardian to my space. A physical barrier between me and the shitshow that was the rest of the world at that time. An almost literal gatekeeper (many people were too scared to walk up the stairs lol)

Added bonus, year end holidays, and the height of summer were vividly and brightly different thanks to the red needles they drop everywhere around that time.

It wasn’t until the landlord told me he was planning to have it cut down, and I had an almost physical reaction that I realized how much I loved that tree. I managed to convince him not to have it cut down until after I’d left.

Both the tree and the flat are now gone. A multi million dollar new build is there now.