The glory of gardening: hands in the dirt, head in the sun, heart with nature. To nurture a garden is to feed not just on the body, but the soul.
Flowers always make people better, happier, and more helpful; they are sunshine, food and medicine for the soul.
A garden is a grand teacher. It teaches patience and careful watchfulness; it teaches industry and thrift; above all it teaches entire trust.
Gardening requires lots of water... most of it in the form of perspiration.
And Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.
Nothing is more completely the child of art than a garden.
In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems.
If we had not winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
All things seem possible in May.
April ... hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want—oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!
Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.
You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.
A garden is a grand teacher... above all it teaches entire trust.
If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.
Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.
I love spring anywhere, but if I could choose I would always greet in a garden.
The unmulched garden looks to me like some naked thing which for one reason or another would be better off with a few clothes on.
The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.
Every year, back comes Spring, with nasty little birds yapping their fool heads off and the ground all mucked up with plants.
A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself.
It was such a pleasure to sink one's hands into the warm earth, to feel at one's fingertips the possibilities of the new season.
What is one to say about June, the time of perfect young summer, the fulfillment of the promise of the earlier months, and with as yet no sign to remind one that its fresh young beauty will ever fade.
The garden, historically, is the place where all the senses are exploited. Not just the eye, but the ear - with water, with birds. And there is texture, too, in plants you long to touch.
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