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