Features
Jerusalem Flowers: Discover the Most Popular Blooms for Flower Deliveries

Discover the vibrant flowers of Jerusalem, from anemones to sunflowers. Learn about seasonal bouquets, popular blooms for Jewish holidays, and the cultural significance of flowers in celebrations and traditions.
Explore Jerusalem’s iconic flowers and their role in Jewish holidays. Learn about popular seasonal bouquets and the cultural significance of blooms in this historic city.

Jerusalem, a city steeped in history and culture, is also a location where the beauty of nature thrives amidst contemporary streets and ancient walls. The vibrant blossoms that are present here are not only a visual delight, but they also possess profound cultural and symbolic significance. Recently, flower delivery companies have become well-known in Jerusalem as a practical way for both locals and guests to value and share the floral beauties of the city.
Jerusalem’s Iconic Blooms
The Anemone (Kalanit)
The anemone, locally known as “kalanit,” is one of Jerusalem flowers, most beloved and wanted by everyone. Bursting forth in a spectrum of colours—ranging from deep reds and purples to bright pinks and whites—these flowers are a herald of spring in Israel. This bloom holds a special place in Israeli culture, often associated with the Land of Israel’s natural beauty and resilience. Throughout history, it has been a sign of the country’s rebirth and renewal, and both art and writing have praised it.
Cyclamen (Rakefet)
The cyclamen, or “rakefet” in Hebrew, is another beloved flower in Jerusalem. Known for its heart-shaped leaves and elegantly upturned petals, the cyclamen blooms in various shades, from pale pink to deep magenta. Folklore in Israel says that this flower is a sign of love and honesty. It grows in lots of fields there. They are very strong because they can grow in the rough, rocky hills of Jerusalem. This is a lot like the spirit of the city.
Desert Flowers
Jerusalem is encompassed by dry and barren terrains, which serve as the habitat for distinctive flowers that have adapted to desert conditions. The durability and beauty of these blossoms, such as the desert tulip and the prickly pear cactus flower, are much admired. Not only are they a botanical wonder for living in such a dry place, but they are also a symbol of strength and life in the face of suffering. People like these flowers because they look lovely against the golden hills of Jerusalem. They are often used in cultural images.
Popular Flower Delivery Choices in Jerusalem
Seasonal bouquets are popular in Jerusalem because they reflect the city’s ever-changing landscapes and the cyclical nature of existence. These bouquets highlight the seasonal beauty and cultural significance of local flowers while conveying feelings in a fresh and dynamic manner.
Spring:
- Anemones (Kalanit): Known for their bright colours, anemones symbolize beauty and the ephemeral nature of life.
- Tulips: Often associated with love and rebirth, flowers such as tulips are a popular choice in spring bouquets.
- Cyclamens (Rakefet): Delicate and charming, these flowers are symbols of resilience and grace.
Summer:
- Sunflowers: With their bright yellow petals, sunflowers represent happiness and positivity, making them a popular choice during the warm months.
- Zinnias: These vibrant, long-lasting flowers are symbols of endurance and lasting affection.
- Marigolds: Often used in summer arrangements, marigolds symbolize warmth and creativity.
Autumn:
- Chrysanthemums: Symbolizing joy and a long life, chrysanthemums are a common choice for autumn bouquets.
- Asters: Representing love and patience, asters add a touch of elegance to seasonal arrangements.
- Pomegranates (flowers): While the fruit is more widely known, the flowers of the pomegranate tree are a traditional symbol of abundance and fertility in Jewish culture.
Winter:
- Lilies: Often associated with purity and renewal, blossoming are popular during the winter season, especially around religious holidays.
- Orchids: Symbolizing beauty and strength, orchids add an exotic touch to winter bouquets.
- Narcissus (Daffodils): These fragrant flowers, associated with hope and rebirth, are a popular choice for winter arrangements.
Seasonal flowers in Jerusalem provide a novel and captivating means of expressing emotions, skillfully encapsulating the city’s varied and dynamic essence. These floral arrangements not only showcase the inherent splendour of indigenous flowers but also embody the cultural opulence and customs of the area.
The Role of Flowers in Jerusalem’s Cultural Celebrations
Flowers for Religious Holidays
Flowers play a significant role in Jerusalem’s religious holidays, adding a touch of nature’s beauty to these spiritual occasions.
- Passover: Lilies and irises, which represent rebirth and new beginnings, are frequently utilized as decorations in homes and synagogues.
- Sukkot: the sukkahs, which are temporary shelters commemorating the Israelites’ journey in the desert, commonly incorporate flower decorations during Sukkot, the feast of booths.
- Shavuot: This holiday, also known as the Feast of Weeks, celebrates the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai. Traditionally used to decorate homes and synagogues, greenery and flowers reflect the harvest and natural beauty of the earth. Common selections are roses and lilies since they capture the vitality and joy of the celebration.
The symbolic meaning of the flowers used in these celebrations goes beyond their mere beauty; they help to create the higher spiritual atmosphere of the celebrations.
Weddings and Celebrations
Jerusalem’s wedding celebrations centre much on flowers because of their symbolic fertility, pleasure, and beauty. From the bride’s bouquet to the reception locations and even the chuppah (wedding canopy), floral arrangements abound in every element of the wedding. White flowers, especially lilies and roses, are stunning because they are pure and reflect a new start. There is something beautiful about every wedding that makes it stand out. This is because flower arrangements generally show national traditions and personal tastes.
Commemorative Uses
In Jerusalem, flowers are a big part of weddings because they represent happiness, beauty, and birth. Any part of the wedding has flowers on it, from the bride’s bouquet to the gathering sites and even the chuppah (wedding canopy). White flowers, such as lilies and roses, are exquisite since they stand for purity and a fresh beginning. Every wedding is different and lovely; hence, the floral arrangements usually reflect national conventions and personal preferences.
Floral Heritage of Jerusalem
Not just beautiful, Jerusalem’s flowers are entwined with the emotional and cultural fabric of the city. From the hardy desert blossoms to the well-known anemones and cyclamens, every bloom recounts human experience and natural beauty. Jerusalem’s flower delivery companies have made sharing this beauty easier than ever, whether through creative arrangements, seasonal bouquets, or classic roses. Accepting these flowers will enable us to include some of Jerusalem’s natural and cultural variety into our daily lives.
Features
I Speak “Jew”

By MARK E. PAULL I grew up in Montreal. Born in 1956. Anglo by birth, sure. But that never quite fit. I don’t speak “Anglo” the way they mean it. My real language is Jew.
And I don’t mean Hebrew or Yiddish. I mean the language of reading the room before you enter it. The code-switching, shame-dodging, laugh-first-so-they-don’t-pounce dialect we pick up early. It’s a language built on side-eyes and timing and ten generations of tension.
I speak French—enough to make myself understood. Enough to charm a dinner table, crack a joke, get someone’s uncle to nod. I’m not fluent, but I’m fast. Doesn’t matter. In Quebec, language isn’t grammar—it’s inheritance. It’s who your grandfather cursed out in a hardware store.
To the Francophones, I’ll never be one of them. My accent betrays me before I say a word. I’m just an Anglo. And not even that, really. Because when the lens tightens, when they look closely, I’m just un Juif. Just a Jew.
And to the Anglos? Same thing. I can wear the suit, speak the Queen’s English, order the wine properly—still a Jew. Even in rooms where I “pass,” I don’t belong. I’m not invited in to be myself. I’m invited in to behave. To be safe. To not say the thing that makes the air stiff.
We’re the only people still called by our religion. No one says “Orthodox” for a Greek. No one says “Vatican” for an Italian. No one calls a Black man “Baptist” before they see his face. But “Jew”? That sticks. That’s the label. Before passport. Before language. Before hello.
I’ve mostly made peace with that. But there’s still this ache—knowing you can live your whole life in a place and never really be from there.
Let me tell you a story.
We had this block party once—the folding-table, paper-plate kind. Kids zipping by on scooters. Music low. Everyone asked to bring something from “your culture.”
The Greek guy brought lemon potatoes and lamb—felt like it came with a side of Byzantine history. The Italians brought two lasagnas—meat and veggie—with basil placed like confetti. The Vietnamese couple brought shrimp rolls that vanished before they hit the table. Even the German guy—built like a fridge—brought bratwurst and a six-pack with gothic lettering.
And then us.
My partner made Moroccan fish. Her grandmother’s recipe. Red with tomatoes, garlic, cumin. Studded with olives and preserved lemon. I brought a bottle of white wine. Dry. Crisp. From the Golan Heights. Not Manischewitz. Not even close.
We laid it out. Someone leaned over: “Moroccan? But I thought you were Jewish.”
We smiled. “We are.”
Then: “So… where’s the brisket? Isn’t Jewish wine supposed to be sweet?”
That’s when it hits you. No matter how long you’ve lived here, how many snowstorms you’ve shoveled through, you’re still explaining yourself. Still translating your presence.
Because they don’t know. They don’t know Jews came from everywhere. That “Jewish” isn’t one dish—it’s a whole map. That we had Jews in Morocco before there was even a France. That some of us grew up on kreplach, some on kefta. That some of our mothers sang in Yiddish, others in Arabic, and some in both—depending on who was knocking.
They don’t know. And worse—they don’t ask.
And that’s the part that gets you. Not the slurs. Not the graffiti. Not even the occasional muttered cliché. It’s the blankness. The shrug. The image they already have of you that’s built out of dreidels and sitcoms.
“Jewish” as nostalgic. As novelty. Something they saw once on a bagel.
Sometimes, when those questions come, I float. One version of me walks out. Another turns into a mouse. One turns into a Frisbee. Just gone. Not mad. Just tired.
Because being a Jew isn’t cute. It’s not nostalgic.
It’s ancient.
Before Montreal.
Before France.
Before Poland. Before Spain.
Before pogroms.
Before ghettos.
Before Hitler.
Before even the word Europe.
We were there.
Go back to the 5th century. 2nd century.
Go back to Jesus—our kid, by the way.
Go further—Babylon. Persia.
Keep going—Temple. Exile. Wandering.
And still, after all that, I’m at a table in Quebec explaining why our fish has cumin in it.
It’s almost funny. If it didn’t wear you down a little.
I’m not looking for pity. This isn’t a complaint.
I’m proud. I know what I carry. I walk into any room with five thousand years behind me. I come from people who kept the lights on through every kind of darkness—and laughed through it, too.
But sometimes, I just wish I didn’t have to explain so much.
All I want is to put down my dish…
…and hear someone say:
“That smells amazing. Tell me the story.”
That’s all.
Mark E. Paull, C.A.C. is a Certified ADHD Coach – IPHM, CMA, IIC&M, CPD Certified
Writer | Lived-Experience Advocate | Type 1 Diabetic since 1967
He has been published in:
The New York Times, The Globe and Mail, Folklife Magazine, Times of Israel, CHADD’s Attention Magazine, The Good Men Project
Features
At 104, Besse Gurevich last original resident of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence

By MYRON LOVE At 104, Besse Gurevich is the last of the original residents of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence. She may also be the oldest member of our Jewish community.
Although her vision and her hearing have diminished considerably, her mind and memory are still intact. A few weeks back, this writer sat down with her in her suite as she recalled a life filled with highs and lows and her many contributions to her community, both in Winnipeg and Fort William before that.
The daughter of Jack and Rebecca Avit, her life’s journey began in 1921 in a home on Carlton Street near Ellice Avenue, near her father’s furniture store. He later operated a cap factory.
When she was ten, the family – she had two brothers and a sister – moved to Manitoba Avenue in the old North End. “My father had put a deposit down on a house on Scotia,” she recalls. “But my parents didn’t feel that the neighbourhood was Jewish enough.”
Her schooling included Peretz School and, like so many of her generation, St. John’s Tech (as it was known back then.) “I was actually supposed to be going to Isaac Newton for high school,” she says. We were living on the wrong side of the tracks for St. John’s. After one day at Isaac Newton, I found a way to transfer to St. John’s.”
In 1940, 19-year-old Bessie Avit married Jack Gurevich, a young man from Fort William. The wedding was marred though, by the sudden, untimely passing of her father.
Following the wedding, Besse moved with her new husband to Fort William where Jack Gurevich worked in retail clothing sales. “We lived in Fort William for 20 years,” she says. “Our three children (Judy, Richard and Howard) were born there.”
She recalls that there were about 200 Jewish families – including her sister and one of her brothers for some years – in town, during the time she lived there. “We were very well known in the community,” she recalls. “I was involved in everything.”
Her community activism continued after the family’s return to her home town. While Jack went to work as a salesman for Western Glove Works, Besse became an indefatigable community volunteer. At one time or another, she served as vice-president of ORT, Hadassah and National Council of Jewish Women in Winnipeg. She was also a long time B’nai Brith member.
In the business world, the highlight of her career was the building of Linden Woods. “I became involved in real estate development for a time,” she recalls. “I was hired by Genstar to develop Linden Woods. The company estimated that it would take about 20 years to complete. I got it done in two.”
She also taught hair dressing for a while. “I worked with many young Jewish brides,” she says.
Recent years have not been kind to Besse Gurevich. Her beloved husband, Jack, died in 2016 – after almost 65 years of marriage. Older son, Richard, passed away in Vancouver in 2018 and, most recently –six months ago – younger son, Howard, followed. She notes that there were 200 mourners at Howard’s funeral.
(Howard Gurevich was in marketing for many years before turning his talents to the art world. In recent years, he was best known for Gurevich Fine Art in the Exchange District and his support of local artists.)
Besse Gurevich celebrated her 100th birthday – which took place at the height of the Covid shutdown – quietly.
While she used to enjoy reading. she is unable to do so any more. She can still listen to television.
And while she has few family members to visit her any more, she does have a group of friends interesting enough from the local theatre scene. For many years, she was a close friend of the late Doreen Brownstone, one of the leading figures in theatre in Winnipeg for more than half a century. Besse became part of the group that would visit Doreen every week and, since Doreen passed on three years ago, the members of the group have continued to visit Besse on a weekly basis.
Features
Winnipeg author’s first novel gripping tale of romance, action and intrigue, set in 15th century Spain and Morocco

By MYRON LOVE “The Chronos of Andalucia”, a novel just released by first-time author Merom Toledano, is a historical romance set in late 15th century Spain and Morocco, filled with passion, action, intrigue, unexpected twists and turns – and, of course, with the requirement of any medieval story – a quest.
The easy-to-read, 190 page book follows the adventures of Catalina, a young woman living by her wits on the streets of Granada in the year 1487, (just after the Christian armies of Ferdinand and Isabella had recaptured all of Spain from the Moors) – while trying to evade the agents of the Inquisition, who had murdered her Jewish mother and Christian father 10 years earlier. She was left with an insatiable desire to learn about astronomy, along with a mysterious map and an astrolabe (an instrument formerly used to make astronomical measurements) – the importance of which will only be unveiled if she can get to the city of Tangier in Morocco.
Early on, there is a reference to Abraham Zacuto, a prominent Spanish rabbi famed for his knowledge of astronomy and astrology.
The action begins when she has a casual interaction with a former Spanish soldier, Diego. When the forces of the Inquisition approach, she flees with the soldier – who is also her love interest – and who helps her to escape. They turn for help to a childhood friend of Catalina’s – Roberta, a nun, who helps them on their perilous journey to Tangier – a journey that includes being captured by pirates, surviving a shipwreck, being separated for a long period of time and, of course, finding each other again and realizing the success of their joint quest.
In his writing, the author paints vivid word pictures of the different characters and beautifully invokes the colour, sights, sounds and scents of the time and the places.
What I found truly remarkable about the writing of “The Chronos of Andalucia” is that English is not Merom Toledano’s first language. The Israeli-born author – he grew up near Haifa – came to Winnipeg with his young family just eight years ago.
“I have had this book in mind for several years now,” says the satellite engineer whose working career takes him to many different parts of the world.
He notes that he has always felt a connection to Spain, Spanish music and literature – a reflection of his family’s modern origins in that country. His great-grandparents, he relates, lived in Toledo – hence the family name, Toledano. His parents lived in Meknes in Morocco while his father attended university in Tangier before making aliyah.
Toledano just published “The Chronos of Andalucia” in April on Amazon. He reports that the book – which is available here at McNally Robinson – has been selling well –close to 100 copies – with orders coming from a bookstore chain in England, a bookstore in Denmark, and one in Italy.
“I have had between 30 and 40 positive reviews so far,” he reports.
Toledano adds that he envisages “The Chronos of Andalucia” to be the first in a series – a la the writer Danielle Steele. He is already working on a sequel – which is hinted at the end of “The Chronos” and, he reports, he is establishing his own independent publishing operation.