ONE GREEN BOTTLE

Until an hour ago this indoor garden bottle used to hold my collection of stones, shells, slate, the odd sea urchin shell and starfish; a little bit of each mountain we had climbed, or loch we had rowed up, or beach we had wandered along. Some have the mountain name and date of the visit written on them. Some I can remember exactly on which remote Highland beach I found them, like the Sea Potato which has now been reduced to a million fragments of white dust.

An hour ago this green glass bottle held so many memories. And then G dropped it.