Spring never is spring unless it comes too soon.
. . perhaps the greatest satisfaction on the first day of the season is the knowledge in the evening that the whole of the rest of the season is to come.
There's two times of year for me: Football season, and waiting for football season.
I just aim for basketball season to start. I don't really care about anything else in life.
Wait'll next year! is the favorite cry of baseball fans, football fans, hockey fans, and gardeners.
There are some optimists who search eagerly for the skunk cabbage which in February sometimes pushes itself up through the ice, and who call it a sign of spring. I wish that I could feel that way about it, but I do not. The truth of the matter, to me, is simply that skunk cabbage blooms in the winter time.
Season number seven! It's been so exciting for us. When we first began, we were like the little train that could... and we did! We're terribly excited! It will be an interesting season for us, I think.
I get excited for the regular season also, but it's just added excitement when the playoffs start.
One of the joys our technological civilization has lost is the excitement with which seasonal flowers and fruits were welcomed; the first daffodil, strawberry or cherry are now things of the past, along with their precious moment of arrival. Even the tangerine -- now a satsuma or clementine -- appears de-pipped months before Christmas.
It's the premium time, the fourth quarter. October, November, December and now, if you will, going over into the first quarter in January. But really, football, that's when the interest is in the game.
I love summertime more than anything else in the world. That is the only thing that gets me through the winter, knowing that summer is going to be there.
The grackles sing avant the spring Most spiss oh! Yes, most spissantly. They sing right puissantly.
