The Most Unhappy Thing About Conservation Is

For The Fall Of The Year Is More Than Three Months Bounded By An Equinox And A Solstice. It Is A Summing Up Without The Finality Of Year's End.

Green, The Color Of Growth, Or Surgent Life, Enwraps The Land. New Green, Still As Individual As The Plants Themselves. Cool Green, Which Will Merge As The Weeks Pass, The Summer Comes, Into A Canopy Of Shade Of Busy Chlorophyll.

A Frontier Is Never A Place; It Is A Time And A Way Of Life.

Summer Is A Promissory Note Signed In June, Its Long Days Spent And Gone Before You Know It, And Due To Be Repaid Next January.

To Know After Absence The Familiar Street And Road And Village And House Is To Know Again The Satisfaction Of Home.