No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.

Catch a vista of maples in that long light and you see Autumn glowing through the leaves.... The promise of gold and crimson is there among the branches, though as yet it is achieved on only a stray branch, an impatient limb or an occasional small tree which has not yet learned to time its changes.

He who travels west travels not only with the sun but with history.

There are two seasonal diversions that can ease the bite of any winter. One is the January thaw. The other is the seed catalogues.

To see a hillside white with dogwood bloom is to know a particular ecstasy of beauty, but to walk the gray Winter woods and find the buds which will resurrect that beauty in another May is to partake of continuity.

Of all the seasons, autumn offers the most to man and requires the least of him.

There it is, fog, atmospheric moisture still uncertain in destination, not quite weather and not altogether mood, yet partaking of both.