Contentment Urned

On yesterday's afternoon walk in the village, I took a short detour and came around the corner of the market building on Richmond Road to discover a long sunny outdoor corridor and a collection of cast iron garden urns neatly lined up along it two by two: two tall urns, then two short urns, then two tall urns again, and so on all the way to the end. I am not sure what was so captivating about the scene, the orderly progression of the glossy iron pots, the grid of sunlight and shadow falling across the pavement or perhaps the pattern formed in the chance meeting of iron, glass, brick and concrete. I love patterns, and I am always looking for them when I venture out.

It will be some time before we can consider planting anything here, but there was hope and cautious optimism in evidence yesterday, and the sunny scene on Richmond Road was an eloquent expression of the mental space in which we northerners find ourselves in April — weary of winter, dreaming of Springtime and the shaggy green abundance which is still to put in an appearance. I pictured these urns as they will look several weeks hence, overflowing with brilliant scarlet geraniums, and I came home feeling very contented.