Here comes February, a little girl with her first valentine, a red bow in her wind-blown hair, a kiss waiting on her lips, a tantrum just back of her laughter.

October is the fallen leaf, but it is also a wider horizon more clearly seen. It is the distant hills once more in sight, and the enduring constellations above them once again.

Knowing trees, I understand the meaning of patience. Knowing grass, I can appreciate persistence.

Consider the wheelbarrow. It may lack the grace of an airplane, the speed of an automobile, the initial capacity of a freight car, but its humble wheel marked out the path of what civilization we still have.

Year’s end is neither an end nor a beginning, but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us.

Knowing trees, I understand the meaning of patience. Knowing grass, I can appreciate persistence.