weather

It ain't no use to grumble and complain; It's jest as cheap and easy to rejoice; When God sorts out the weather and sends rain, Why, rain's my choice.

It haint no use to grumble and complane Its just as cheap and easy to rejoice; When God sorts out the weather and sends rain, W'y rain's my choice.

The long, dull, monotonous years of middle-aged prosperity or middle-aged adversity are excellent campaigning weather [for the devil].

Bring me a wheel of oaken wood A rein of polished leather A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky Brewing heavy weather.

It is trial that proves one thing weak and another strong. A house built on the sand is in fair weather just as good as if builded on a rock. A cobweb is as good as the mightiest cable when there is no strain upon it.

Weather means more when you have a garden. There's nothing like listening to a shower and thinking how it is soaking in and around your lettuce and green beans.

There is nothing like the first hot days of spring when the gardener stops wondering if it's too soon to plant the dahlias and starts wondering if it's too late. Even the most beautiful weather will not allay the gardener's notion (well-founded actually) that he is somehow too late, too soon, or that he has too much stuff going on or not enough. For the garden is the stage on which the gardener exults and agonizes out every crest and chasm of the heart.

In any weather, at any hour of the day or night, I have been anxious to improve the nick of time, and notch it on my stick too: to stand on the meeting of two eternities, the past and the future, which is precisely the present moment; to toe that line.

Waves of a serene life pass over us from time to time, like flakes of sunlight over the fields in cloudy weather.

It is dry, hazy June weather. We are more of the earth, farther from heaven these days.