Winter
– The leaves had grown silver filigree hairs of frost
– The grass had turned grey overnight as if it had been the victim of contact with a ghostly apparition
– He walked leaving oxidized footsteps through the silver grass
– The silver sun hung like a huge mirror on the horizon, the trees skeletal against its surface
– The moon was so full and bright it was as if the garden was illumintated by halogen lights
Autumn
– The leaves on the trees caught the late sun, hanging low in the sky, and turned them to burnished copper lustreware
– The tree canopy was a mixture of ochres, yellows, golds and burnt sienna
– The auburn and golden leaves drifted to the ground like confetti
– The trees shone with autumnal colours and the sky was dotted with the pink-blue clouds of sunset
– It was like a scene from a Rubens’ painting with the leaves like brushstrokes against the sky
Summer
– The summer sun fell like torch beams though the dark branches and onto the taupe path. The light and shadows were like interconnecting tiles on the woodland floor
– Dawn broke like maple syrup being poured over blueberries
– Birds flitted outside the window like thrown gloves
Spring
– Snowdrops, their heads drooping like a group of Carmelite monks, lined the path
– The rippling waves were like chain-stitch across a flat grey cloth
– The tubs were bursting with flowers