The icy wind whistles through the finger like branches of the bare trees, a light covering of snow lying heavily on their extremities. Brittle autumn leaves dance dramatically around in a great swirl of colour. Children are skating on the icy surface of the pond making large cracks like gaping wounds. Sledges hurtle down the piebald hills, rosy faces glowing and laughing, amidst the flurry of ice particles. Snowball throwing children cry with pain, their swollen red fingers throbbing with cold, their gloves wet and icy. An isolated snowman looks out over the glacial landscape, its coal eyes surveying all before it, somebody's old bob-cap perched crookedly on its cold head. ...read more.The bowling green and crazy golf have an eerie silence about them, they lie like a forgotten town, deserted and derelict. I leave my lonely bench now. The cold is seeping through into my bones, the blood icy through my veins. My thick coat pulled tightly to keep me a little warmer. Maybe I will come again next week to sit and watch the winter wonderland before me. The Park in Summer Children run excitedly towards the chiming of the ice cream van, its familiar tune carried on the warm summer breeze, the raspberry sauce dripping blood like down their hands. Families with swimming costumed children paddle in the paddling pool, their faces contorted with laughter and delight.