Mothering Sunday

One of my fondest memories is coming home from Sunday School on Mothering Sunday clutching a tiny bunch of violets in my chubby little hand. I always had the feeling that those few blooms each year meant more to my Mum than just about anything else I ever gave her. Long after I grew out of Sunday School, I'd seek out violets and present them to her on Mother's Day.

Of course, what I should do now is find a clever way to turn this tale so I could tell you how, if my Mother was around now, I would give her a beautiful hand-tie of our everlasting faux flowers but, that simply wouldn't be true. If I could give her one more bunch of flowers, it would be a little bunch of violets.