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Winter
came down to our home one night
Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed
slippers of snow,
And we, we were children once again.
Bill
Morgan Jr.
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Welcome to
our page devoted to the most misunderstood season of all, winter.
A beautiful season of intimacy and reflection, winter gives us the
opportunity
to stay inside and look inside, as we're not called outdoors
to enjoy the warmth
and sunshine (this page is obviously for those who
live where winter is characterized
by cold and snow!). Snuggle up,
put a throw over you, make a cup of hot cocoa,
and enjoy the
observations on this precious season. . . .
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Of
winter's lifeless world each tree
Now seems a perfect part;
Yet each one holds summer's secret
Deep down within its heart.
Charles
G. Stater
No one
can look at a pine tree
in winter without knowing that
spring
will come again in due time.
Frank
Bolles
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Winter, a
lingering season, is a time to gather golden moments,
embark upon a
sentimental journey, and enjoy every idle hour.
John
Boswell |
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There is
nothing in the world more beautiful than the forest
clothed to its very
hollows in snow.
It is the still ecstasy of nature, wherein every
spray,
every blade of grass, every spire of reed,
every intricacy of
twig, is clad with radiance.
William Sharp |
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Snowflakes
are one of nature's most fragile things,
but just look what they can do when they stick together.
Vesta
M. Kelly |
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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.
Dame Edith Sitwell |
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During
the winter I am content--or try to think I am--to make my head-quarters in
town
and to get fresh air and a broader outlook at intervals that are
frequent, but still at intervals.
Perhaps the walk or drive out to
the frozen lake among the hills for an afternoon's skating is
the more
keenly relished because of a busy week elsewhere. For all practical
purposes nature is
at a standstill. . . . there is a wonderful joy in
leaving behind the noisy city streets and starting out
along the white
road that leads across the hills. With each breath of the sharp,
reviving air
one seems to inhale new life. A peace as evident as the
sunshine on the fields takes possession
of one's inner being. The
trivial cares which fretted like a swarm of mosquitoes are driven away
by
the first sweep of wind that comes straight from the mountains. . . . The
intense silence
that broods over the snow-bound land is a conscious
blessing. The deep blue of the sky and
the purple shadows cast by
the trees and plants are a feast to the eye. The crunch of the
snow-rind
beneath our feet and the varied hum of the telegraph wires
overhead are music to our ears.
Frances
Theodora Parsons |
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When the snow is
still blowing against the window-pane in
January and February and the wild
winds are howling without,
what pleasure it is to plan for summer that is
to be.
Celia Thaxter |
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| Everything is
equal in the snow: all trees, all lawns, all streets, all
rooftops, all cars. Everything is white, white, white, as
far as you can see. Covered by snow, the well-kept and
neglected lawns look the same. The snow hides the shiny
newness of a just-bought car as effectively as it does the rust
and dents of a ten-year-old one. Everything looks clean and
fresh and unmarred by time or use. Snow, like the silent
death it counterfeits, is a great leveler.
Adrienne Ivey |
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I
prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the
landscape—
the loneliness of it—the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath
it,
the whole story doesn't show.
Andrew Wyeth |
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| Winter
Poem
once a snowflake
fell
on my brow and I loved
it so much and I kissed
it and it was happy and called its cousins
and brothers and a web
of snow engulfed me then
I reached to love them all
and I squeezed them and they became
a spring rain and I stood perfectly
still and was a flower
Nikki Giovanni

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There is a privacy about it which no other season gives
you. . . In spring,
summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other;
only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches
when you can savor belonging to yourself.
Ruth Stout |
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If we
had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant:
if we did not sometimes taste of adversity,
prosperity would not be so welcome.
Anne Bradstreet |
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Sometimes
our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter.
Who would think that those branches would turn
green again and blossom, but we hope it, we know it.
Johann
Wolfgang von Goethe |
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Winter
Morning Poem
Ogden Nash
Winter
is the king of showmen
Turning tree stumps into snow men
And houses into birthday cakes
And spreading sugar over lakes
Smooth and clean and frosty white
The world looks good enough to bite
That's the season to be young
Catching snowflakes on your tongue
Snow is snowy when it's snowing
I'm sorry it's slushy when it's going |
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