Can words describe the fragrance of the very breath of spring? Neltje Blanchan More Quotes by Neltje Blanchan More Quotes From Neltje Blanchan Can words describe the fragrance of the very breath of spring - that delicious commingling of the perfume of arbutus, the odor of pines, and the snow - soaked soil just warming into life. Neltje Blanchan nature spring life This is exactly how falling in love should be in my opinion. It should be scary yet unflinching. We should fear it but know that it's worth the risk and we should throw ourselves full throttle into the darkness with nothing but hope to guide us. And, like learning to ride a bike, once we learn to love we never forget how and it seems we only become Neltje Blanchan romantic-love falling-in-love scary Is there any sign of spring quite so welcome as the glint of the first bluebird unless it is his softly whistled song? No wonder the bird has become the symbol for happiness. Before the farmer begins to plough the wet earth, often while snow is still on the ground, this hardy little minstrel is making himself very much at home in our orchards and gardens while waiting for a mate to arrive from the South. Neltje Blanchan home spring song Snowstorms may yet whiten fields and gardens, high winds may howl about the trees and chimneys, but the little blue heralds persistently proclaim from the orchard and the garden that the spring procession has begun to move. Neltje Blanchan garden spring moving Long after their associates have gone southward, they linger like the last leaves on the tree. It is indeed "good-bye to summer" when the bluebirds withdraw their touch of brightness from the dreary November landscape at the north to whirl through the southern woods and feed on the waxy berries of the mistletoe. Neltje Blanchan summer bye long As might be expected of creatures so heavenly in color, the disposition of bluebirds is particularly angelic. Gentleness and amiability are expressed in their soft musical voice. Tru-al-ly, tru-al-ly, they sweetly assert when we can scarcely believe that spring is here; tru-wee, tur-wee they softly call in autumn when they go roaming through the countryside in flocks of azure. Neltje Blanchan autumn spring believe
