There is no gilding of setting sun or glamor of poetry to light up the ferocious and endless toil of the farmers' wives.
There is no gilding of setting sun or glamor of poetry to light up the ferocious and endless toil of the farmers' wives.
Wisdom worth sharing, words worth remembering.
There is no gilding of setting sun or glamor of poetry to light up the ferocious and endless toil of the farmers' wives.
My recollection of a hundred lovely lakes has given me blessed release from care and worry and the troubled thinking of our modern day. It has been a return to the primitive and the peaceful.
Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and numbs my brain I seek relief in the trail and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn my cares fall from me – I am happy.
I remember a hundred lovely lakes and recall the fragrant breath of pine and fir and cedar and poplar trees. The trail has strung upon it as upon a thread of silk opalescent dawns and saffron sunsets.