We willingly hold the memories of summer and happiness. But that is only half of any story. Before summer and spring is always a winter. We don't savor our winters so much though, do we? That is as it should be, I think. Winter is and must be, but it is in spring and summer we rejoice, both in the seasons of our gardens and our hearts. Heaven will be eternal summer, don't you think?
The snow is so deep that the pine boughs are caught and pinned to the ground.
The way the arbor looked last summer at the height of living glory.