From a perspective of a highly respected earl, Claude walker, the word was much less colorful and exciting compared to that of Oliver Holmes who couldn't be held still from excitement.
Only weeks ago the air was still warm and the streets in the wide avenue were a deep summer green, the whispering rustle of the leaves only audible once the daytime traffic petered to an almost stop.
Now the city was drained of its color, being left with a clean white coat of snow across the rooftops and along the stone paths. As was the case every year, it was the sort of weather that prompted people to keep their loved ones near, and their palms firmly placed against their hats.
The icy roadways glistened in the early morning sun as the winter wind swept down the street; the sudden gale causing a few of the passers-by to gasp at the cold sensation.
