It’s cold and crisp here today, taking a short walk to Bantock Park on the west side of Wolverhampton. The Rose Garden looks barren, an arrangement of cropped stumps and jagged branches corralled in neat miniature hedges or tied to bare metal frames like forgotten prisoners. There’s not even enough sunlight to power the sundial.
Winter, above, but underground the slow stirring begins.
I am warm indoors now, in the cafe, enjoying good coffee and delicious cake and free wifi.
On the way here I sent the first of several letters that I hope will begin something new this Spring.