To my dearest Eden,

It has been a long but wonderful year of travel, seeing the natural beauty of the world and all that springs through its soil. As the new year approaches I find myself arranging the memories in my mind like a bouquet. So many of these memories have been abundant in flowers and their stories, after all.

For this final festive month of December I am residing in Germany. I love visiting the markets, particularly the Dresden Striezelmarkt, which is the oldest Christmas market in Germany. The lights blaze over the river, there is the scent of spiced mulled wine heavy in the air, and the sounds of music and carousels wrap one up like a velvet cloak. There is much to explore, such as glittering tree decorations, traditional handcrafted nutcrackers, and decadent regional foods.

A friend I made told me of a German legend which tells the origin of the white chrysanthemum.

On a cold, snow-drenched Christmas Eve in Germany’s Black Forest, a peasant family sat down to a meager supper, only to hear a piercing, wailing sound. At first they imagined it was the wind, but after hearing it repeatedly they opened the door and found a beggar. The man was blue with cold and so they took him in, wrapped him with blankets, and shared their supper. When the beggar was warm and fed the blankets fell off his body, revealing a man in shining white clothing and a halo. He introduced himself as the Christ Child and left. The following morning, outside the door where he had first stood, there were two white chrysanthemums.

I bought a beautiful Christmas wreath at the Dresden market and have decided to add fresh flowers to it myself. Upon hearing this story I knew that adding white chrysanthemums would make for the perfect touch.

Sending my love,

Annaliese