Friends gathering for a holiday feast arrived at my home with delectable dishes and a huge bouquet of roses. Roses in winter. Who’s getting married? I said upon seeing so much pink, although I was immediately drawn to it.
There was no Christmas tree in the house, again, this year. No Hanukah decorations. I hadn’t even bothered to light candles. At the last minute, realizing how dark the place was, I’d turned on extra lights all around. But the roses outshone even the fake fireplace. And now, days later, I’m still getting lost just gazing into the depths of those bright blossoms.
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We need flowers in winter. They give us hope, even they rarely smell much. Roses in summer seduce us with fragrance, in the winter they do it just by existing and by glowing. I have yellow-orange roses on the table now. I’m so glad you’re reveling in your pink roses, Robin! Happy New Year! Love, Lucy
Lucy, I finally weeded through the roses. Over the past two weeks they aged and turned crispy and brown. But underneath the roses I found other blossoms, still fairly fresh. What a great surprise. So the crumpled roses are now in a pile in the snow, looking fairly bright. And my table is graced with the smaller but more durable buds. And I still feel very blessed. I’m pretty sure that one way of taking care of myself in winter will have to be to buy myself flowers.