An icy wind howles around the house and rattles the windowpanes. Winter, long overdue, had silently arrived in the night, hurled a shower of snowflakes for the sheer fun of it and left the lawn dusted with snow.
In the pale morning light a woman stands gazing at bright red rosehips in a tiny vase, the mug of steaming tea in her hand momentarily forgotten.
Tiny Bouquet No. 68
Sträußchen Nr. 68