Winter’s coming, she said, drawing the bedroom curtains to reveal condensation, like mildew across the glass.
She remembered a weekend in Copenhagen, years ago, climbing a thin spiral staircase to the top of the Winter Garden. She’d followed the narrow, metal-worked, platform; drawn her gloved fingers across cold-sweating glass. And beneath her, a cacophony of green – exiled ferns and one fragile scarlet bloom. Later, grounded again, she read faded information boards with their talk of faraway countries: Chile, Papua New Guinea, Sri Lanka, Mauritius. She imagined seeds, seedlings, saplings – wrapped in silk, cocooned in glass – brought half way across the world to this cathedral, where they sank their roots into mulch and watched the snow pile up outside.
She wiped her palm across the window pane and felt the cold sneak across her skin; she imagined a crystal dome in the flats’ communal gardens, filled with enough flowers to get her through the winter.
Inspired by cold mornings and conversations with UP Projects about Winter Gardens and the next phase of the Word Garden.