Rushing around helping my teenage son exit with all his exam equipment intact; wallet for lunch, check; calculator for complicated sums which look a bit like japanese, check; bike lock, check; he appears to be all in one piece and ready to leave with plenty of time to get to sixth form college.

Phew. I sigh a breath of relief, the tension which has been building for 10-15 minutes now leaves as I listen to the sounds of him banging his bike down the concrete stairs into the outside decking area.

The area adorned with pots of flowers growing with varying degrees of success.  Last year’s pretend fern/christmas tree that died in the snow and never really recovered; the pot looking like it has something pink and unidentified, perhaps a weed, but so pretty I haven’t the heart to tear it out;  As I envision him clambering down the stairs and onto the decking I hear him shout ‘Oh My…’

my heart sinks, I have visions of a flat bike tyre..something awful in the garden.

‘.what? what is it? what is wrong?’ it must be something bad

‘nothing – look at our flower Mum!’

I venture out in my pink fleecey dressing gown onto our Castle ‘like’ parapet; a turret, if you will.

Our geranium has flowered.  A beautiful red geranium.  I enjoy the sight, I send my son off to get on with his Further Maths exam, but when I think about it later, my son has taken a moment to wonder about the beauty of a single geranium.  It is a sight to behold of that there is no doubt, but noticing it and loving it is also a moment for me to treasure. I am honoured to have a son who notices the wonder of nature and I am grateful to the geranium for reminding me how wonderful he is.