A covering of snow today, and looking across the alley I can see white hills, white mist, white hills, with a sprinkling of snow on rooftops and on the tops of conifers. Somewhere in those invisible hills, Tony is doing a wedding in a village chapel.
Yesterday in the supermarket, I stopped to look at the display of bouquets. They looked so happy! Spring colours at last, and in every bouquet there seemed to be a spear of purple-blue iris among the pinks, whites and yellows.
Two instincts met in the middle of me and bumped. One said 'take them home!' and the other was 'extravagance!'. And it wouldn't have made sense to buy flowers, as I'll be away for two days this week, and the blokes at home won't notice them much.
Then I remembered that I don't have to own things. They flowers just as beautiful if they don't belong to me. I don't have to find something to put them in, watch them die, put them in the compost and wash out the vase. I can just stand still, Mrs Cannybody in Sainsbury's, and look.
I'm not saying I'll never buy flowers. I think flowers are one of the nicest gifts you can give someone. But I was reminded that the important thing isn't to own, but just to recognise loveliness when it's under our noses, whether it's flowers or the small boy who thinks I drive a digger.
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