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Quote by E.L. Grant Watson

“The yellow Iris by the edge of the river is in early blossom, some buds opened and others opening. The flower has only three petals; what look like inner petals are really stigmas that fold back, covering the stamens. These plants spread by their creeping roots; their orange seeds can, when ripe, be ground up and used as a sub- stitute for coffee.”

Quote by E.L. Grant Watson

Book:What To Look For In Summer
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What To Look For In Summer

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E.L. Grant Watson

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“Two damsel-flies are on the tall, flowering rush. These are the smallest of the British dragon-flies, and they prey on gnats, July-browns, and other insects. Beside the water-vole grow arrowhead plants, and to the left the great water-plantain. Both have three- petalled flowers. Their roots are deep in mud under the water, and they are growing in the shallows at the canal's edge together with the rushes. The canal passes under a bridge, and you can see how the tow-path also goes under it so that a horse that pulls a barge can pass thereon. On the towpath fishermen are sitting, and one of them has just caught a fish: not too big to be landed with a skilful jerk.”

NatureSummerStreamBritish Countryside
Book:What To Look For In Summer
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“By the end of February many signs of Spring have already appeared and, as the days grow longer, the hearts of country dwellers are stirred to renewed wonder at the swelling of buds and the sight of the early blossoms of hazel, willow, alder and poplar. In March come the violets and celandines, and although the easterly winds often blow strong and cold, we know that March will soon be followed by April-when windows can be opened again, and hedgehogs and dormice can end their hibernation and enjoy the sunshine. With Spring comes the greatest wonder of the year-possibly even more beautiful than Summer.”

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Book:What to Look For in Spring
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“The blackjack oak is a hard tree. I chopped ours down. Sitting to the side of our wooded acre. Standing 20-feet tall. The ax was old. Older than I was at the time. A weathered handle hurt the hands. A rusty head barely cut. Chipped away at the tree. Over hours. Over days. And the tree fell. A creak. A crack. A soft thud on sandy ground. My blistered hands dropped the ax. Tired legs limped away. Summers were long then. And trees fell.”

YouthSummer
Book:Some Books Are Not For Sale
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