March is a tomboy with tousled hair, a mischievous smile, mud on her shoes and a laugh in her voice.
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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.
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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.
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Here comes February, a little girl with her first valentine, a red bow in her wind-blown hair, a kiss waiting on her lips, a tantrum just back of her laughter.
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Have you ever been out for a late autumn walk in the closing part of the afternoon and suddenly looked up to realize that the leaves have practically all gone? And the sun has set and the day gone before you knew it
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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.
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A woodland in full color is awesome as a forest fire, in magnitude at least, but a single tree is like a dancing tongue of flame to warm the heart.
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There are no limits to either time or distance, except as man himself may make them. I have but to touch the wind to know these things.
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For all his learning or sophistication, man still instinctively reaches towards that force beyond. Only arrogance can deny its existence, and the denial falters in the face of evidence on every hand. In every tuft of grass, in every bird, in every opening bud, there it is.
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If you would know strength and patience, welcome the company of trees.
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I have learned to use the word 'impossible' with the greatest caution.
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