It is December, and nobody asked if I was ready.
My boy Vondracek:
How did it get so late so soon? Its night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how the time has flew. How did it get so late so soon?
Dr. Seuss
Love the trees until their leaves fall off, then encourage them to try again next year.
My boy Peppino: "I know the year is dying, Soon the summer will be dead. I can trace it in the flying Of the black crows overhead; I can hear it in the rustle Of the dead leaves as I pass, And the south wind's plaintive sighing Through the dry and withered grass. Ah, 'tis then I love to wander, Wander idly and alone, Listening to the solemn music Of sweet nature's undertone; Wrapt in thoughts I cannot utter, Dreams my tongue cannot express, Dreams that match the autumn's sadness In their longing tenderness." - Mortimer Crane Brown, Autumn Dreams
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