A drop of water suspended on a crocus petal.
Turning over the final page of a much-loved novel.
A starry sky.
The lonely strum of a single guitar string.
Swirling clouds of milk in freshly-poured tea.
Waves rolling against a pebbly shore.
Dipping roast potatoes into gravy whilst no-one is looking.
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Don’t worry, I’m not going to burst into song, at least not just yet. These aren’t necessarily my favourite things. No, this post is about the simple things, although I’d probably consider them my favourite things too. After all, it is often the simple things that connect with us most.
But why?
