The hedges were leafless, just ice-coated twigs and branches, decaying dead leaves lying on the frozen soil below them. The flowers that had dared to try and grow were being ruthlessly and relentlessy tortured by the whiplashes of the cold, winter-morning. Their petals paled and withered under a layer of frost, burning them. They thought they could face up to anything, but they were wrong, like so many of us are. By the time the snow of the evening came, they had given in. There was nothing to do but drop their heads, give in and die.