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Long cold nights mark November's return, grey rains fall, wind walks in the bronze oak leaves.

Gladys Taber

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Gladys Taber
Age: 80 †
Born: 1899
Born: April 12
Died: 1980
Died: March 11
Author
Writer
Colorado Springs
Colorado
Gladys Bagg Taber
Cold
November
Walks
Nights
Fall
Grey
Night
Leaves
Long
Rain
Mark
Rains
Return
Bronze
Wind
Oaks

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Being a good neighbor is an art which makes life richer.
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My general attitude toward life when I first get up is of deep suspicion, verging on hatred. ... I am simply basted together until after breakfast.
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November wind has a sound different from any other. It is easy to imagine the cave of the winds in some mythical Northland where the winds are born and the gods send them out to conquer the quiet air.
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Perhaps, after all, our best thoughts come when we are alone. It is good to listen, not to voices but to the wind blowing, to the brook running cool over polished stones, to bees drowsy with the weight of pollen. If we attend to the music of the earth, we reach serenity. And then, in some unexplained way, we share it with others.
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Old houses, I thought, do not belong to people ever, not really, people belong to them.
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If I had Aladdin's lamp and the usual three wishes, the first would always be, 'Give me the first day of June.
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June in New England is like a lover's dream made tangible.
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Faith is a curious thing. It must be renewed it has its own spring.
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There is a kind of immortality in every garden.
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After all, catching something is purely a by-product of our fishing. It is the act of fishing that wipes away all grief, lightens all worry, dissolves fear and anxiety.
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the tentacles of today reach out like an octopus to swallow yesterday.
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Most cats feel that bird-catching is their duty the instinct goes back to prehistoric times. Amber keeps in practice by chasing moths.
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the real evidence of growing older is that things level off in importance ... Days are no longer jagged peaks to climb time is a meadow, and we move over it with level steps.
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April is a promise of what's to come.
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