Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Juneberry. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Juneberry Quotes And Sayings by 91 Authors including Clinton Scollard,Jaci Burton,Nick Alexander,Sara Coleridge,Nathaniel Hawthorne for you to enjoy and share.
A bird in the boughs sang "June,"
And "June" hummed a bee
In a Bacchic glee
As he tumbled over and over
Drunk with the honey-dew.
Peaches. Talk to me.
As the red leaf warns: winter will be with us soon enough. If only I could bottle a little of this sunshine up and open it in January, like jam
Hot July brings cooling showers,
Apricots and gillyflowers.
Wild rose-bush, covered, in this month of June, with its delicate gems, which might be imagined to offer their fragrance and fragile beauty to the prisoner as he went in, and to the condemned criminal as he came forth to his doom, in token that the deep heart of Nature could pity and be kind to him.
Welcome as the flowers in May.
The first peaches of spring - the first peaches! Buy, eat, purge your bowels of the poisons of winter!
Spring is my sweetheart ...
Beautiful December grapes, blue as plums, every grape a little skinful of sweet, tasteless water
My name is Tess Little. But everyone calls me Red.
Summer brings sunshine, warm and flowering.
She looked like a summer garden.
August is ripening grain in the fields blowing hot and sunny, the scent of tree-ripened peaches, of hot buttered sweet corn on the cob. Vivid dahlias fling huge tousled blossoms through gardens and joe-pye-weed dusts the meadow purple.
Through the last days of May and the early days of June, Eleanor
All the seasons run their race In this quiet resting-place; Peach, and apricot, and fig Here will ripen, and grow big; Here is store and overplus - More had not Alcinous!
April, the angel of the months, the young love of the year.
And Summer, dear Summer, hath years of June,
With large white clouds, and cool showers at noon;
And a beauty that grows to a weight like grief,
Till a burst of tears is the heart's relief.
Orange, Longbottom.
ORANGE MARMALADE',
As you head into adulthood, June, you may occasionally encounter oversize exotic beverages of an alcoholic nature. I felt it was my duty to acquaint you with these potentially hazardous drinks.
I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees.
April is the cruelest month, breeding
lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
memory and desire, stirring
dull roots with spring rain.
What sweeter words can fall on the human ear? It's going to be May all week long.
May 12-13: Sowed Hemp at Muddy hole by Swamp. August 7: Began to separate the Male from the Female at Do - rather too late.
Hebe's here, May is here!
The air is fresh and sunny;
And the miser-bees are busy
Hoarding golden honey.
Lilacs are May in essence.
Dandelion wine. The words were summer on the tongue. The wine was summer caught and stoppered ... sealed away for opening on a January day with snow falling fast and the sun unseen for weeks ...
And then, one fairy night, May became June.
Red lips like a living, laughing rose.
June suns, you cannot store them To warm the winter's cold, The lad that hopes for heaven Shall fill his mouth with mould.
February your grandmother!
June, Day murmurs. I feel a strange warmth at the sound of my name on his lips.
Eat your pinkberry and enjoy life.
Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.
I started working on trying to sound like June from the very beginning.
But don't forget, in the meantime, that this is the season for strawberries. Yes.
Even the illusion of June is enough to send a stabbing pain through my chest. Hell. I miss her so much.
Squirrelpaw!" Brambleclaw's
Blueberry Muffins
Hee that is in a towne in May loseth his spring.
Redder than a turkey's rump in poke berry time.
Reunited with strawberry, raspberry and blueberry, I am berry, berry happy to be back working with JELL-O.
Tell you what I like the best -
'Long about knee-deep in June,
'Bout the time strawberries melts
On the vine, - some afternoon
Like to jes' git out and rest,
And not work at nothin' else!
October, here's to you. Here's to the heady aroma of the frost-kissed apples, the winey smell of ripened grapes, the wild-as-the-wind smell of hickory nuts and the nostalgic whiff of that first wood smoke.
The mangosteen, queen of the tropical fruit.
We belong together, Junebug. Tell me what I have to do to make that happen. I'll do anything you want.
June and July?
These are the months
we call Boiling Water.
Adventures are not all pony-rides in May-sunshine.
I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers; Of April, May, of June, and July flowers. I sing of Maypoles, Hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes. - ROBERT HERRICK
I am Goldberry, daughter of the River.
June a good time to go off into the world
Here Spring just grows and greens and warms, spreading life, wrapping us in her arms, until suddenly we realize that she's not a girl anymore. She's a woman. A woman named Summer.
If you have not guessed my name by month's end, then you shall be mine!
Almond blossom, sent to teach us That the spring days soon will reach us.
At last came the golden month of the wild folk-- honey-sweet May, when the birds come back, and the flowers come out, and the air is full of the sunrise scents and songs of the dawning year.
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us.
Summer is a promissory note signed in June, its long days spent and gone before you know it, and due to be repaid next January.
Mars red gladiolus
Raspberry, strawberry, lemon and lime
What do I care
Blueberry, apple, cherry, pumpkin and plum
Call me for dinner
Honey, I'll be there
Summer was on the way; Jem and I awaited it with impatience. Summer was our best season: it was sleeping on the back screened porch in cots, or trying to sleep in the tree house; summer was everything good to eat; it was a thousand colors in a parched landscape; but most of all, summer was Dill.
Lo! sweeten'd with the summer light,
The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow,
Drops in a silent autumn night.
All its allotted length of days
The flower ripens in its place,
Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil,
Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.
Let all thy joys be as the month of May.
What she loved: life, London, this moment of June.
April, April
Laugh thy girlish laughter;
Then, the moment after,
Weep thy girlish tears.
Moonlit plum tree-
wait,
spring will come.
hay gold dusk of late spring,
June Cleaver fused with a Suicide Girl.
Violets are God's apology for February ...
The very pink of perfection.
We would load up the yellow Cutlass Supreme station wagon and pick blackberries during blackberry season or spring onions during spring onion season. For us, food was part of the fabric of our day.
Delicious Autumn!
January gray is here, like a sexton by her grave; February bears the bier, march with grief doth howl and rave, and April weeps
but, O ye hours! Follow with May's fairest flowers.
The month of May was come, when every lusty heart beginneth to blossom, and to bring forth fruit.
Oh, Marilla," she exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming dancing
in with her arms full of gorgeous boughs" 'I'm so glad I live in
a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we
just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it?
summertime." "I remember it well.
August is dust here. Drought
stuns the road,
but juice gathers in the berries.
Sweet April-time-O cruel April-time! Year after year returning, with a brow Of promise, and red lips with longing paled, And backward-hidden hands that clutch the joys Of vanished springs, like flowers.
Marjoram ... Blushes.
October arrives in a swirl of fragrant blue leaf smoke, the sweetness of slightly frosted MacIntosh apples, and little hard acorns falling. We are in the midst of cool crisp days, purple mists, and Nature recklessly tossing her whole palette of dazzling tones through fields and woodlands.
No price is set on the lavish summer;
June may be had by the poorest comer.
The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake, the satin-green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze: June had arrived.
You're strictly a tulip girl - a red tulip girl.
I bought us a home. For you and me, and for peaches, and any other raspberries or blueberries that might come along later. This
If June was the beginning of a hopeful summer, and July the juice middle, August was suddenly feeling like the bitter end.
Spring. March fans it, April christens it, and May puts on its jacket and trousers.
If I could tell you about Red
I would sing to you of fire Sweet like cherries
Burning like cinnamon Smelling like a rose in the sun
And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days.
Pale purple as the bloom om a ripe plum, veined with the gold of late flowering gorse, set with small slender birches,just turning yellow,with red-berried rowans and thicket of bracken, the heath lay steeped in sunshine.
If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance.
Autumn ripens in the summer's ray.
I'm the flavor of the month.
Let us go, then, exploring, this summer morning, when all are adoring the plum blossom and the bee.
The night is a strawberry.
Words of Emancipation didn't arrive until the middle of June so they called it Juneteenth. So that was it, the night of Juneteenth celebration, his mind went on. The celebration of a gaudy illusion.
I love you, June, and you know how acutely, how desperately. You know that no one can say or do anything to shake my love. I have taken you into myself, whole. You need have no fear of being unmasked, only loved.
When May, with cowslip-braided locks,
Walks through the land in green attire.
And burns in meadow-grass the phlox
His torch of purple fire:
And when the punctual May arrives,
With cowslip-garland on her brow,
We know what once she gave our lives,
And cannot give us now!
Jam on a winter took away the blue devils. It was like tasting summer.
Sweet April! many a thought Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed; Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought, Life's golden fruit is shed.
On the Jellicoe road
February, month of despair,
with a skewered heart in the centre.