Woe Is Winter

SPRING

It was the kindest kind of rain that fell. Soft and then a little heavier, helping along what had already fallen into the hard-pan earth until it rained, steady as a good friend who walks beside you, not getting in your way, staying with you through a hard time.

And because the rain came so patient and slow at first, and built up strength as the earth remembered how to yield, instead of washing off, the water slid in, into the dying ground and softened its stubborn pride, and eased it back toward life.

And then, just when we thought it would end, after three such gentle days, the rain came slamming down, tons of it, soaking into the ready earth, to the primed and greedy earth, and soaking deep.

~Out of the Dust

SUMMER

The earth in summer is brimming with beauty, beauty of such magnificence and variety and unembarrassed lavishness, ripe beauty, lush beauty, beauty given to us with such generosity and abundance it is almost scandalous.
~Captivating

The first week of August hangs at the very top of the summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. Often at night there is lightning, but it quivers all alone. There is no thunder, no relieving rain. These are strange and breathless days, the dog days, when people are led to do things they are sure to be sorry for after.
~Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt

On the anvil of August, the city lay paralyzed, stunned into stupidity by the heat. The sidewalks shrank under the sun. It was a landscape of total surrender. The air was chlorinated, thick and hostile, like the atmosphere of a dead planet.
~White Oleander

AUTUMN

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms, their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.
~John Muir

WINTER

Where is the beauty of winter written? As I rummaged through a list of quotes pillaged away on my precious computer, I began noticing a trend. I could categorize many of the quotes thematically under 'seasons.' However, as I began to then compare those such quotes, I realized that a season was missing! There were no poetic words about winter! Granted, I haven't done a google search yet, and I'm not daring to propose that no quotes or poetry exist on this frigid topic. However, I do find it interesting that I have not one quote on a season that I may be perpetually stuck in for half a year.

So what does one do when they're sick of the cold? Or sick from the cold? What can be done when all seasons seem frozen forever in winter? As Pollyanna would recommend, look for something to be glad over. No mosquitoes! No irritating pollen! No worrying about loosing those extra Christmas pounds to fit into that swimsuit! It may even help to laugh over winter's woes. Thanks, mom.