(it's never too late to join the river....)
Outside our conservatory windows are a mass of petunias.
They are fuchsia pink, deep purple bleeding-at-the-edges, salmon pink, lily-white.
They change every day. I watch them extra-carefully, because I planted them. I watered them as they grew from teensy little things into great blooming bushes. They are 'mine'.
We are especially fond of things that we attach to our 'selves'. They are 'my' petunias, and so I have a good relationship with them. I take care of them. I appreciate them.
But what about the lemon-balm that was here when we arrived? What about the weeds blooming on the path round the back of the house?
Writing small stones encourages us to notice the things that aren't attached to our selves, and to pay them exactly the same kind of attention. To stop and wonder how strangers are, as well as our friends and family. To love them just as much.
Can you do this today when you look for small stones? Can you look beyond your self?