Seasonal Rhythm Quotes

I'm going to a commune in Vermont and will deal with no unit of time shorter than a season.

Whatever may be the changes produced by man, the eternal round of the seasons is unbroken.

The calendar and the clock are all set by football season and the offseason.

I get a little behind during Lent, but it comes out even at Christmas.

When all the world appears to be in a tumult, and nature itself is feeling the assault of climate change, the seasons retain their essential rhythm. Yes, fall gives us a premonition of winter, but then, winter, will be forced to relent, once again, to the new beginnings of soft greens, longer light, and the sweet air of spring.

The lunar cycle within the solar season: that kind of syncopated rhythm is what life relates to.

Cross Creek belongs to the wind and the rain, to the sun and the seasons, to the cosmic secrecy of seed, and beyond all, to time.

I live in a very, very quiet place. I have a sequence to my creative life. In spring and fall, I am above ground and commit to community. In the summer, I'm outside. It is a time for family. And in the winter, I am underground. Home. This is when I do my work as a writer - in hibernation. I write with the bears.

Oh, what a catastrophe for man when he cut himself off from the rhythm of the year, from his unison with the sun and the earth. Oh, what a catastrophe, what a maiming of love when it was a personal, merely personal feeling, taken away from the rising and the setting of the sun, and cut off from the magic connection of the solstice and the equinox!

I know that my energy falls and rises with the phases of the moon. I rest in the winter. I wake up at my own pace, and I blossom in the summer. Life is supposed to be a natural process.

Spring, when the earth tilts closer to the sun, runs a strict timetable of flowers.

I have a sequence to my creative life. In spring and fall, I am above ground and commit to community. In the summer, I'm outside. It is a time for family. And in the winter, I am underground. Home. This is when I do my work as a writer - in hibernation. I write with the bears.

Winter in Maine is a time of alternating rest and frenzied activity.