One to do done

I can finally cross one 'to do' off my 'to do list'. My balcony is awash with colour. My wonderful mother took a trip to the garden centre and came back with pot loads of summer flowers, which she gave to me and that I have planted in window boxes and ceramic posts. As I look outside, through the summer rain, I am made infinitely happy by the sight of my begonias, butterfly lavender and daisies bouncing in the breeze.

Some people don't 'do' gardening and don't see the point. The arrangement of plants together in pretty groups doesn't 'do' anything particular that should make our lives any better, and yet, in my case, I find that it does make my life a happier one. It is not what the plants do, so much as what they are that makes me happy. My plants don't provide me with any sustenance, they won't make me any wealthier and I have sufficient fresh air that their ability to exchange gases is of little concern to me, yet by being pretty and by conjuring images of summer meadows, lazy afternoons and sunshine, they make my life that little brighter. Plus, they need me and it is always satisfying to be required.

In my experience, happiness is not always logical, but illogical joy is often perfectly sensible and a good indication of sanity.

I like to think that what separates us from the animals is our ability to appreciate beauty, but this is probably a romantic notion with little basis in truth. Who am I to say that a gorilla does not appreciate the sight of the morning mist rising from the foothills of a Rwandan mountain?

Whether it is a human characteristic or not, it seems that it is in our nature to take satisfaction from beautiful paintings, well designed buildings and sweeping views across long valleys, amongst other eye-pleasers.

Functionality is all very well, calculated reasoning is vital, but a splash of colour from a bursting window box can warm the heart, and life with a cold heart offers little to live for. It is immensely satisfying to work out a difficult problem and to perform a job that I feel means something, but sometimes all I want to do is sit on a chair on my balcony, surrounded by purple flowers, swatting the bees away with my Sunday paper.