A few days at what I still call "home" after 38 years of not living there, is enough to remind me of my Mum's favourite poem; W H Davies's What is life if full of care.With no apologies for sentimentality here it is.
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—
No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
With a photo of what is actually a non-descript stream as a rule, suddenly made to look rather pretty in summer sunshine.