My path to work used to take me across Weston Park, a daily exercise that has allowed me to witness first-hand the changing of the seasons through the periodic metamorphosis of the park’s botanical inhabitants. The few minutes I spend each day in that earthly paradise always leave me in a hypnotic trance, in awe of the Creator who made all things bright and beautiful.
Link to Wordsworth's most famous poem: Daffodils
In winter when most life forms are allowed to hibernate, the slope of the hill where the Sheffield University Firth Park Building is perched up looks like a solitary place. On the path by the manmade lake, two lone benches, memorials to departed loved ones, offer a refuge underneath the towering trees. But come early April and a flock of golden daffodils spring back to life, stretched in a never-ending line by the side of that hill, tossing their heads in a spirited dance. They are a sight to behold that as I cross the wooden bridge and watch their reflection on the manmade lake, I would utter a short prayer that would start my day right.
Link to Wordsworth's most famous poem: Daffodils
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