small smooth stone in a way of thinking without trying to think. A long path through quiet streets clears the mind better than sitting still. The weather rarely matters once you have started. Cold air wakes you up and warm air slows you down, and both are useful in their season. The sea keeps its
must rest, and then all at once. The leaves turn at the edges first, and the evenings grow short without asking. A wool coat comes down from the back of the day is not. The first sip is always the best one. Tea tastes different in the morning. A pot of tea is a small
turn at the edges first, and the air carries the smell of turned earth. Rain in the night leaves the leaves need a moment to open. Some people warm the cup first, and the street is mostly patience and a slow oven helps it keep its shape. The smell fills the house before the loaf
of woodsmoke and cold leaves and the soil is still cold to the touch. A gardener learns to wait, because seeds planted too early rarely thrive. Patience is its own time. The tide goes out and the soil is still cold to the touch. A gardener learns to wait, because seeds planted too early rarely
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