Horse chestnut trees

My earliest memories of horse-chestnut trees are being pushed in my pram along Victoria avenue, graced by towering rows of them. A little older and we walked beneath them, and then on the bus we would ride along, on the top deck so we were level with the branches and leaves. We didn’t have a car when we were little so if we did not go by bus or walk we went by bike, our parents riding and us on little saddles between their knees. I remember looking up as we were cycled along.

Later still I would ride to the swimming pool along Victoria Avenue… and of course we collected the conkers… Dad used to stop as he cycled home and pick up any prize specimens to brig home to us. I love the colour, the shiny glossy, brilliant colour.

As a teacher I would bring their leaves into school as well as the conkers for inspiration… in those days teachers were more autonomous…. what shall I teach today, I know the kids can write about conkers!

Because the trees were all massive, although I loved the beautiful flowers, candles we called them, mostly white and occasional that red, that particular chestnut tree red. I thought the flowers were beautiful, but of course they were way above my head. All my memories of Victoria Avenue and the chestnut trees returned when we were in Utrecht, which is a city seemingly full of these magnificent beasts. walking along beside the canal i came face to face with the foliage and flowers of one, growing from the terrace below.