I put them in a crystal jug.
The jug used to belong to my great-grandmother, who was a revolutionary, but also loved flowers.
And white flowers in this time of year are a bit like inviting winter indoors – but asking it to wipe its feet and to generally act civilized.
What a lovely image.
I’ve never seen a Russian winter, but I managed to live through a Quebec winter. Barely. I hear Russian winters are even longer and more vicious. Both are completely incapable of civility.
And yet you invite it inside, and politely ask it to show some, like Bonhomme. Beautiful.
Oh, that is a lovely way to describe white flowers in winter.