"A snowdrift is a beautiful thing - if it doesn't lie across the path you have to shovel or block the..." — Hal Borland

Summer is a promissory note signed in June, its long days spent and gone before you know it, and due to be repaid next January.

The ultimate wisdom which deals with beginnings, remains locked in a seed. There it lies, the simplest fact of the universe and at the same time the one which calls faith rather than reason.

October is the fallen leaf, but it is also a wider horizon more clearly seen. It is the distant hills once more in sight, and the enduring constellations above them once again.

Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night.