“You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when
the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the
wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the
spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen.”
- Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
It is time for spring, or spring has said, my time has come. No matter what goes on in life, no matter how busy the world is, the blossoms appear again from the trees, the bulbs peek out their starting stalks, tiny bright green grass plumes emerge from the ground, and the air becomes filled with fragrance. Even as a snow shower continues to fall, spring fights for it's grand position.
“When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-whit! To-who!—a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doe blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-whit! To-who!—a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.”
―
William Shakespeare,
Love's Labour's Lost
“When you paint Spring, do not paint willows, plums, peaches, or
apricots, but just paint Spring. To paint willows, plums, peaches, or
apricots is to paint willows, plums, peaches, or apricots - it is not
yet painting Spring.”
―
Dōgen
“Spring drew on...and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which,
freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at
night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.”
―
Charlotte Brontë,
Jane Eyre
“Can words describe the fragrance of the very breath of spring?” ― Neltje Blanchan
I glanced out the window at the signs of spring. The sky was almost
blue, the trees were almost budding, the sun was almost bright.”
―
Millard Kaufman,
Bowl of Cherries
“A Robin said: The Spring will never come,
And I shall never care to build again.
A Rosebush said: These frosts are wearisome,
My sap will never stir for sun or rain.
The half Moon said: These nights are fogged and slow,
I neither care to wax nor care to wane.
The Ocean said: I thirst from long ago,
Because earth's rivers cannot fill the main. —
When Springtime came, red Robin built a nest,
And trilled a lover's song in sheer delight.
Grey hoarfrost vanished, and the Rose with might
Clothed her in leaves and buds of crimson core.
The dim Moon brightened. Ocean sunned his crest,
Dimpled his blue, yet thirsted evermore.”
―
Christina Rossetti
“He smelled cold water and cold intrepid green. Those early flowers
smelled like cold water. Their fragrence was not the still perfume of
high summer; it was the smell of cold, raw green.”
―
P. Harding
“When the groundhog casts his shadow
And the small birds sing
And the pussywillows happen
And the sun shines warm
And when the peepers peep
Then it is Spring”
―
Margaret Wise Brown
“Dead my old fine hopes
And dry my dreaming but still...
Iris, blue each spring”
―
Shushiki,
Japanese Haiku
“Spring work is going on with joyful enthusiasm.”
―
John Muir,
The Wilderness World of John Muir
“Come with me into the woods where spring is
advancing, as it does, no matter what,
not being singular or particular, but one
of the forever gifts, and certainly visible.”
―
Mary Oliver,
Dog Songs
"But
each spring...a gardening instinct, sure as the sap rising in the
trees, stirs within us. We look about and decide to tame another little
bit of ground." -- Lewis Gantt
“I can still bring into my body the joy I felt at seeing the first
trillium of spring, which seemed to be telling me, "Never give up hope,
spring will come.”
―
Jessica Stern,
Denial: A Memoir of Terror
Shop Land & Garden - www.landngarden.com
