Living in a rural area outside London, I am greeted every morning by the ever-changing landscape of our farming community. The light from Fall with its golden glow, the heat of the shimmering summer sun and the fields dotted with summer hay. With a nod to the pristine winter fields dotted with animal tracks and rows of fencing, dark in the dreary light of winter. There is such an immense openness and expectation of what the next season will bring. The sun awakens, and the fields come to life with that first light. There is nothing as beautiful as the fresh blanket of snow and the wisps of surviving summer vegetation, blowing in the wind, standing tall through the snow like valiant soldiers.