Quotes About Nature

the vibrant green-yellow-pink blossom-life of spring the watery-blue radiant sunshine-breath of summer the metallic-earth-toned glowing-decay of autumn the grey-white holly-festive slow-motion of winter

Shedding late-summer tears for the end of cherry season. Patiently and hopefully waiting for pumpkin pie season.

autumn strolls, winter slithers spring skips, summer swims

I move easily between the four seasons — dance-painting my planting songs. dance-painting my gardening songs. dance-painting my harvesting songs. dance-painting my quiet winter listening songs.

late winter and early spring blend and blur in pleasant days and chilly nights penetrating sun and gentle cool breezes with stirrings of life, subtle and green — mornings that light ever earlier rouse us, but sunsets that still come in evening's youth lull

summer leads into autumn autumn leafs into winter winter leans into spring spring leaps into summer

Spring and summer come with a lush layer of foliage over reality, but when things start falling away in the autumn and get bare and stark in the winter we're forced to look at things more as they really are, including ourselves.

The cold dull glow of winter warms to the colorful brilliance of springtime.

Forecast for the Seasons spring — giddy and warm summer — happy and hot autumn — serene and chilly winter — blessed and freezing

Spring is a lover Summer, a partier Autumn, an artist Winter, a philosopher

If spring betrays summer, would autumn never arrive?

Seasons depart peripherally.

We're all just stardust with a personality.

A bud can be beautiful, a work of art even. But I'm finding it simply can't compare to the openness of the blossom. Looking for my sun.

Ah! but the moods lie in his nature, my boy, just as much as his reflections did, and more. A man can never do anything at variance with his own nature. He carries within him the germ of his most exceptional action; and if we wise people make eminent fools of ourselves on any particular occasion, we must endure the legitimate conclusion that we carry a few grains of folly to our ounce of wisdom.

And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...

Fair orchard trees wave their fruit-laden arms, And nature smiles in her Autumnal charms.

September... where fall and summer meet.

The Summer's gone, — how did it go?

[S]ome of the rarest days of the year come in September, days when it is comfortably cool but pulsing with life.

Of autumn months September is the prime, Now day and night are equal in each clime, The twelfth of this Sol rises in the Line, And doth in poising Libra this month shine...

Spring scarce had greener fields to show than these Of mid-September...

Soft-eyed September...

September is more than a month, really; it is a season, an achievement in itself. It begins with August's leftovers and it ends with October's preparations...