Last November, my wife Elizabeth planted a great many tulip and daffodil bulbs in the cold autumn soil, so that in the spring, even more flowers than usual would bloom around our village house, located an hour’s drive from Kyiv. Our neighbours have sown garlic and onions for the winter, planted flowers and scattered fertiliser over the ploughed land, thoughtful of another year’s harvest.
But between now and the spring, there is winter and there is war.
