Once more, dawn greets me with the pleasure of contemplating the exuberant flowering of magical groves sprouting even in the heart of winter.
How stunning is the spectacle of this luxurious vegetation once its soft green shoots have pierced the thick layer of muddy ice. In the deep silence of a snowy morning, I walk slowly, inhaling the freezing air searching for a particular fragance.
I feel dull, withered, and my feet are soar from the biting cold. Yet still I am captivated by the charms of Cadwallon. Thus clad in its dress of snow and flowers, its beauty prevails over the grime streets and crumbling buildings.