Coming away from putting flowers on my Dad`s grave yesterday afternoon something white caught my eye in the grass on the path in front of my foot. It was only about a quarter of an inch in size.
I bent down for a closer look and found it was a tiny beautifully formed snowdrop, less than an inch tall.
Looking round I saw there were more and there were daisies too. So tiny all these flowers, yet they`d had the strength to push their way through the hard earth, and up to the light. They took the risk of being stood on and broken, but they still grew there.
Somehow that small snowdrop spoke to me. (not in the literal sense!)
It lightened my spirits.