be content until each man makes Arturo Vidal Pelipaidat his own weather and keeps it tohimself.
If that cannot be arranged, we would rather do without it altogether.
Yet I think it is only to us in cities that all weather is sounwelcome. In her own home, the country, Tyskland Børn Fodboldtrøjer Nature is sweet in all hermoods. What can be more beautiful than the snow, falling big withmystery in silent softness, decking the fields and trees with white asif for a fairy wedding! And Tottenham Hotspurs Trøjer how delightful is a walk when the frozenground rings beneath our swinging tread--when our blood tingles in therare keen air, and the sheep-dogs' distant bark and Chelsea Dame Fodboldtrøjer children'slaughter peals faintly clear like Alpine bells across the open hills!
And Galatasaray SK Fodboldtrøjer then skating! scudding with wings of steel across the swaying ice,making whirring music as we Barcelona Dame Fodboldtrøjer fly. And oh, how dainty is spring--Natureat sweet eighteen!
When the little hopeful leaves peep out so fresh and green, so pureand bright, like young lives pushing shyly out into the bustlingworld; when the fruit-tree blossoms, pink and white, like villagemaidens in their Sunday frocks, hide each whitewashed cottage in acloud of fragile splendor; and the cuckoo's note upon the breeze iswafted through the woods! And summer, with its deep dark green anddrowsy hum--when the rain-drops whisper solemn secrets to thelistening leaves and the twilight lingers in the lanes! And autumn!
ah, how sadly fair, with its Hamburger SV Dame golden glow and the dying grandeur of itstinted woods--its blood-red sunsets and its ghostly evening mists,with its busy murmur of reapers, and its laden orchards, and thecalling of the gleaners, and the festivals of praise!
The very rain, and sleet, and hail seem only Nature's useful servantswhen found doing their simple duties in the country; and the East Windhimself is nothing Hollanti worse than a boisterous friend when we meet himbetween the hedge-rows.
But in the city where the painted stucco blisters under the smoky sun,and the sooty rain brings slush and mud, and the snow lies piled indirty heaps, and the chill blasts whistle down dingy streets andshriek round flaring gas lit corners, no face of Nature charms us.
Weather in towns is like a skylark in a counting-house--out of placeand in the way. Towns ought to be covered in, warmed by hot-waterpipes, and lighted by electricity. The weather is a country lass anddoes not appear to advantage BVB Dame in town. We liked well enough to flirtwith her in the hay-field, but she does not seem so fascinating whenwe meet her in Pall Mall. There is too much of her there. The frank,free laugh and hearty voice that sounded so pleasant in the dairy jarsagainst the artificiality of town-bred life, and her ways becomeexceedingly trying.
Just lately she has been favoring us with almost incessant rain forabout three weeks; and I am a demned damp, moist, unpleasant body, asMr. Mantalini Converse Winter All Star puts it.
Our next-door neighbor comes UEFA EURO 2016 out in the back garden every now and thenand says it's doing the country a world of good--not his coming Brasilia Pelipaidat outinto the back garden, but the weather. He doesn't understand anythingabout it, links:
http://www13.plala.or.jp/gakuki3/cgi_bin/aska/aska.cgi
http://www13.plala.or.jp/gakuki3/cgi_bin/aska/aska.cgi
http://blackdog.whitesnow.jp/2/bbs2a.cgi |
