Publisher's Synopsis
Deep in the crevices of winter, through muddy trodden snow, the gales harsh blow mocks the trees so naked. They stand strong in the face of it. It reaches the bones; the final throes of winter's bite. You stand strong in the face of it. It is in that last test of will, that cold and the still, you suddenly smell it; what strength can bring, what hope can bring - I'm chasing spring.