Year's End Is Neither An End Nor

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.

A Snowdrift Is A Beautiful Thing - If It Doesn't Lie Across The Path You Have To Shovel Or Block The Road That Leads To Your Destination.

In A Painful Time Of My Life I Went Often To A Wooded Hillside Where May Apples Grew By The Hundreds, And I Thought The Sourness Of Their Fruit Had A Symbolism For Me. Instead, I Was To Find Both Love And Happiness Soon Thereafter. So To Me [the May Apple] Is The Mandrake, The Love Symbol, Of The Old Dealers In Plant Restoratives.

The Ultimate Wisdom Which Deals With Beginnings, Remains Locked In A Seed. There It Lies, The Simplest Fact Of The Universe And At The Same Time The One Which Calls Faith Rather Than Reason.

For Anyone Who Lives In The Oak-and-maple Area Of New England, There Is A Perennial Temptation To Plunge Into A Purple Sea Of Adjectives About October.