Winter dies into the spring, to be born again in the autumn. – Terri Guillemets
Autumn birds speak cheerful poetry from their berry-stained beaks. – Terri Guillemets
Winter dies into the spring, to be born again in the autumn. – Terri Guillemets
Autumn birds speak cheerful poetry from their berry-stained beaks. – Terri Guillemets
When one of my plants dies, I die a little inside too. – Terri Guillemets
Catch a vista of maples in that long light and you see Autumn glowing through the leaves…. The promise of gold and crimson is there among the branches, though as yet it is achieved on only a stray branch, an impatient limb or an occasional small tree which has not yet learned to time its changes. – Hal Borland