There are few sights more pleasant to the eye than a wide cotton field when it is in bloom. It presents an appearance of purity, like an immaculate expanse of light, new-fallen snow.
A rainy day is the perfect time for a walk in the woods.
It’s clear to me that I will return here, as well as to other wilderness frontiers within me—whether next year or some time later—because I know that what the river says is what I need to hear: to know myself, to feel wild again, to confront my own limits and move beyond them into the untamed country on the other side. I will return here in spite of the river’s name; but I will never return the same again, and that, after all, is most clearly what the river says.
Jeff Wallach, “What the River Says”
I sit beside the fire and think of all that I have seen, of meadow-flowers and butterflies in summers that have been; Of yellow leaves and gossamer in autumns that there were, with morning mist and silver sun and wind upon my hair.
A fallen blossom
returning to the bough, I thought —
But no, a butterfly.
If you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it’s your world for a moment.
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
Mother Earth is pulsing with new life. Wide fields of early rye, set in motion by the soft breezes, roll forth their gratitude in rich, emerald undulations. Robin and bob-white rent the air with their bright gladness. The fragrant petals of peach and apple blossoms fall and lay in sensate caress upon the earth, producing that harmony of odor and color known only to spring in the South. Trailing berry-vines climbing over a rustic fence form a background of graceful, waving green. The bewildering shades of grays and greens in the deeper woods intoxicate the eye and inspire the inner man with the promise of new life. O, the satisfaction of heart-hunger and soul-thirst in the contemplation of reviving nature!
Just living is not enough … one must have a sunshine, freedom,
and a little flower.
Hans Christian Anderson