Three Beautiful Things

1. The Mother takes me for my 20-week scan. We admire Baby Badger kicking away like a racing cyclist, and after a lot of pushing and pulling on my bump, get a view of its heart. "About the size of a grape," says the operator. "You can see the valves working away." The image moves around, giving different views -- sometimes it looks as if BB is snuggled up in a duvet. Finally, the operator gives the all-clear: "Your baby has no abnormalities that I can see." 2. "She's become nice and we can take her out," they say. Their previously fractious baby sits demurely (apart from the occasional posset, which could happen to anyone) in a sling on her father's chest and examines the world around her with wide-eyed interest. 3. To come upstairs just before sunset and see that the far hills are hidden by rain clouds.

1. It is a day of wind and rain. A maelstrom of leaves twists at the crossroads. The common vibrates, as if the gale has got in underneath it. The land feels alive, wild and joyful. 2. In the afternoon the sun comes out. We stand on the top of Mount Ephraim and look over our town, checking for storm damage. It's all still there, but the lime trees are now leafless, and we look between their smallest branches at a shattered view. 3. We sit at the kitchen table and write our wedding vows.