The Steadfast Love of the Lord is not Seasonal; His Mercies do not have winter or summer days… They are new every now and then.

It was a beautiful bright autumn day, with air like cider and a sky so blue you could drown in it.

Winter then in its early and clear stages, was a purifying engine that ran unhindered over city and country, alerting the stars to sparkle violently and shower their silver light into the arms of bare...

I have a suspicion that when first built, Stonehenge may have glowed blue with St. Elmo’s fire during certain times of the year

THERE is something in the autumn that is native to my blood— Touch of manner, hint of mood; And my heart is like a rhyme, With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping...