A pocket full of stones

Bring me sticks
Bring me pine cones
Bring me your pockets full of stones

A slow afternoon in the park, playing on the stepping stones across the river. Making sure the baby didn’t fall in. Though he did manage to dip both shoes to greater and lesser extents. Looking at the daffodils growing, wandering under the trees.

On the way home Zeph fell behind and called out to me, ‘Mummy! Wait! I’ve got to get some stones for Daddy!’

He came home with pockets full of stones and gravel bits and dirt.

He came home with pockets full of love.

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