When we moved into our new home, we were thrilled—except for one strange thing.

In our yard stood a tree covered in blue glass bottles.

At first, it unsettled us.

My kids wanted to take them down, but I told them to wait.

What confused us even more was realizing other homes in the neighborhood had the same thing.

Curiosity got the better of me, so I asked a neighbor about it.

She smiled and explained, “They’re called bottle trees.

They’ve been around for generations.

Some say they’re meant to trap bad luck,

others see them as a symbol of hope.

For many of us, it’s a way of remembering loved ones.”

Suddenly, the bottles didn’t feel so strange anymore.

They became a reminder that even in new places, traditions can hold stories and meaning.

Now, when the sun shines through the blue glass,

casting soft patterns on the ground, I feel grateful.

What once felt eerie is now a quiet reminder that every neighborhood has its own history—and sometimes,

the things that confuse us at first are the very things that make a place feel like home.

And now, instead of wanting to take the bottles down,

my kids and I are talking about adding our own—so that one day,

they too will remember this house not just as a place we lived,

but as a place where we learned that beauty often hides in the unexpected.