Perhaps, after all, our best thoughts come when we are alone. It is good to listen, not to voices but to the wind blowing, to the brook running cool over polished stones, to bees drowsy with the weight of pollen. If we attend to the music of the earth, we reach serenity. And then, in some unexplained way, we share it with others.

Long cold nights mark November's return, grey rains fall, wind walks in the bronze oak leaves.

June in New England is like a lover's dream made tangible.

Perhaps, after all, our best thoughts come when we are alone. It is good to listen, not to voices but to the wind blowing, to the brook running cool over polished stones, to bees drowsy with the weight of pollen. If we attend to the music of the earth, we reach serenity. And then, in some unexplained way, we share it with others.

Christmas is a kindling of new fires.

Pride may go before a fall, but jealousy goes before destruction.

A good recipe for a human reducing breakfast is a lot of good things to eat, and three spaniels and two cats to eat with.