Someone once gave me a small, smooth stone with an inspirational word carved on it and it sat under a large red callistemon bush in our garden in Sydney for years. In fact it may still be there. It sounds silly now, but I liked the permanency of it, the thought that someone might one day dig up that stone and wonder about it. So after our old cat Lilly died a few weeks ago, I ordered a carved river stone from Talking Stones to place where she was buried, and another to remember Patsy, the beautiful tabby we brought with us to Tasmania but who got out and disappeared six months later. This morning we placed them down and shed a few more tears.
The rosé revolution rolls on
19 hours ago