Well. Then we had the scintillating beams of fire opals, moonstones and star rubies emanating from an incandescent orb of light illuminating the world with its purity and glow. A myriad of colours adorned the sky, lavenders, roses and arctics. Dawn seeping through from under the vast quilt of contemporary dancers; blades of foliage, lime green, olive green and the darker shades, myrtle and brown, camouflaging beautifully under the sugar drops of morning dew. Petals dancing, flowing to the rhythm of the breeze, spreading contentment. A forest, lifeless, laden with the frosty morning air, sitting under the delicately spun silk webs artistically drawn by the magical fingers of the spiders. Like symphonies composed by classical musicians, the chirping of magpies reverberate, you can hear it, throughout the desolate meadow, not a soul in sight. To saunter through it in these days, of maples, of pines and willows, shedding their burnt sienna, jade and citron leaves creating a breathing carpet.

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