A Touch of Heather

The dreary morning drizzle was weeping against the hall windows, and I simply refused to let the weather dictate my aesthetic standards. Gliding across the polished console, I discovered an antique cut-crystal salt cellar sitting empty beside a fallen sprig of purple heather and a slender silver stickpin. The household's utter failure to display fresh botanicals was practically an affront to my sensibilities. Bracing my heels against the mahogany grain, I rolled the heavy, faceted crystal upright and used the stickpin to wedge the vibrant purple sprig dead-centre into the hollow. Standing proud against the dark timber, my bespoke floral installation instantly restored an air of high-society distinction to this draughty corridor.