I knew the rain was not far away and that more than anything I wanted to be here. Feet naked to the ground, bare canvas on my knees and oil paints ready at my side. I sat and moved my hand, my brush, as my eyes moved over you. You are the sovereign cherry tree in St Mary’s churchyard, climbed by children (and myself), scampered upon by squirrels, touching and touched by all. I love you. And as I completed the visual record of this precious time with you the first fat raindrops were starting to fall, precursors of the wild and stormy night to come.