SPRING

"She turned to the sunlight

And shook her yellow head,

And whispered to her neighbor:

"Winter is dead."

― A.A. Milne, When We Were Very Young

How can something so beautiful bravely emerge from its grubby little bulb in the underground dirt and darkness, when the perfect amount of sun beckons? Rather like a butterfly from its chrysalis, made by an unassuming caterpillar.

Along with all the other newborns of this season, it's a most wonderful sign from Nature that the worst and longest days are over and a new world has begun.

SUMMER

"What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness."
― John Steinbeck

**Just in case you wondered what summer in Australia can be like, here's an excerpt from my memoir - 'Old McLarsen had some Farms' - Book One, Brave Beginnings -

It was another stifling day in the West Australian wheat belt, in a heat wave that hadn't seen an evening temperature below 90°F (32°C) for more than two weeks. We were not yet adjusted to the sun's relentless demands on our energies and enthusiasm. Even our daily after-lunch siesta had been proving inadequate to replace our 'get up and go' that seemed to have 'gotten up and gone'—without us. Surely an early night would be the solution? Sounded good, but we soon found sleep impossible. The sun may have set but its memory lingered—with a vengeance.Brainstorm number one that night was to thoroughly wet two thirsty bath towels, wring them out and lie on top of them.

AUTUMN

"Autumn...the year's last, loveliest smile."

[Indian Summer]" ― John Howard Bryant

"Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love - that makes life and nature harmonise.

The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one's very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit.

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns."

[Letter to Miss Lewis, Oct. 1, 1841]

― George Eliot, George Eliot's Life, as Related in Her Letters and Journals - Volume 1

And ever since a long time ago when I wore the smallest feet, I have loved swishing through the fallen leaves. Just had the experience again recently (in my seventh decade now) and discovered those twinkle-toes still quiver at the thought of autumn leaves.

WINTER

"Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth,

for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire:

it is the time for home."

                                             ― Edith Sitwell

Ahh yes, staring into the flames... it doesn't get much better than this. And when it's your slow combustion heater and a great pot of soup is simmering on top, there is not only cosiness on your outside, but also the promise of a wondrously warming comfort-meal approaching to warm heart and soul.

"I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently?

And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt;

and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again."

          ― Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass