Summer is closing in on my beautiful lake
Seasons
Spring Turned to Snow Before the Storm
The Magic of Nature
I’m looking out my window and everything is gray.
The lake disappear in the mist, but the autumn’s bubbling foliage makes me smile ❤
“If a year was tucked inside of a clock, then autumn would be the magic hour.”
~ Victoria Erickson
“Two sounds of autumn are unmistakable…the hurrying rustle of crisp leaves blown along the street…by a gusty wind, and the gabble of a flock of migrating geese.”
~ Hal Borland
“Anyone who thinks fallen leaves are dead has never watched them dancing on a windy day.”
~ Shira Tamir
“Wild is the music of the autumnal winds amongst the faded woods.”
~ William Wordsworth
A Second Spring
It’s autumn, but it’s like spring is on its way once more. Happy new week to all of you 😊 ⛅
Soon Fireworks Begin
Fortunately, the Houses Light up the Darkness
A Sea Bath Waiting for Summer
Today is just that kind of day
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house
and unlatch the door to the canary’s cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,
a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies
seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking
a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,
releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage
so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting
into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.
~ Billy Collins
Spring in w:Gościeradz
Wiosna
Forår i landsbyen med piger i vejkanten
A spring morning in the village, overlooking Roskilde Fjord.
Duck Tracks in Thaw
This spring came suddenly from day to day. Even the snowdrifts gave up the fight eventually. They lay boasting of the last snow, telling a story of an unexpectedly harsh winter. But maybe we haven’t seen the end of winter yet.
~ Thaw by Edward Thomas
Over the land freckled with snow half-thawed
The speculating rooks at their nests cawed
And saw from elm-tops, delicate as flowers of grass,
What we below could not see, Winter pass.
Becoming a White House
HANNA'S WALK 
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