Quotes About Seasons

My mum was very conscious about fashion and my dad was born into the tailoring tradition, so fashion has always been my life, although now, really, I wear the same thing - just in different weights - light and heavy cashmere in winter and cotton in summer.

Juárez is surprisingly cold in the winter, miserably hot in the summer, and you just hope that either spring or autumn falls on a weekend so you get to enjoy it.

I watch a white landscape that turns pale green, dark green, yellow and red, brown under bare branches, until snow falls again.

People lie. They use you and they lie, all the while feeding you bullshit about being loyal and never leaving you. No one can make that promise, because life is all about seasons, and seasons change.

Live in each season as it passes: breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit.

Like the seasons of the year, life changes frequently and drastically. You enjoy it or endure it as it comes and goes, as it ebbs and flows.

Expect to have hope rekindled. The dry seasons in life do not last. The spring rains will come again.

Life is filled with rhythms-day and night, hot and cold, summer and winter, spring and fall, cloudy and clear. Likewise in a relationship, men and women have their own rhythms and cycles.

We must remember there are different seasons in our lives and let God do what He wants to do in each of those seasons.

There were daffodils, yes, and crocuses, and the hardy little snowdrops; and green was beginning to wreathe its way across the land – but when you still had to scrape the ice off your car in the morning, when you still had to run across the road in howling gales and lashing rain, when it felt as if you were holding your breath, waiting for the year to begin, even as days of your life passed you by …

For me, it was almost like winter didn't count. Summer was what mattered. My whole life was measured in summers.

For me, it was almost like winter didn't count. Summer was what mattered. My whole life was measured in summers. Like I don't really begin living until June, until I'm at that beach, in that house

My whole life was measured in summers. Like I don't really begin living until June, until I'm at that beach, in that house.

Summer was what mattered. My whole life was measured in summers. Like I don't really begin living until June, until I'm at that beach.

Everything good, everything magical happens between the months of June and August. Winters are simply a time to count the weeks until the next summer.

My whole life was measured in summers.

I always wondered what the boys looked like in December. I tried to picture them in cranberry-colored scarves and turtleneck sweaters, rosy-cheeked and standing beside a Christmas tree, but the image always seemed false. I did not know the winter Jeremiah or the winter Conrad, and I was jealous of everyone who did. I got flip-flops and sunburned noses and swim trunks and sand.

Summer was what mattered. My whole life was measured in summers. Like I don't really begin living until June, until I'm at that beach, in that house.

For me, it was almost like winter didn't count. Summer was what mattered.

There's relief in not having to be outside. No gardening, no mowing the lawn, no tyranny of long daylight hours to fill with productive activity. We rip through summer, burning the hours and tearing up the land. Then snow comes like a bandage, and winter heals the wounds.

In a garden, things grow . . . but first, they must wither; trees have to lose their leaves in order to put forth new leaves, and to grow thicker and stronger and taller. Some trees die, but fresh saplings replace them. Gardens need a lot of care. But if you love your garden, you don't mind working in it, and waiting. Then in the proper season you will surely see it flourish.

Growth has its season. There are spring and summer, but there are also fall and winter. And then spring and summer again. As long as the roots are not severed, all is well and all be well.

In California, the first spring is in November. March only echoes.

Other flowers came at the end of the summer, but by then the winter sadness had already dissipated, and the effect of the blooms was not the same.