Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring’s honied cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high.
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness—to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.
When John Keats wrote the ‘Human Seasons’ he must have had residency in a place like Gladwin. Gladwin’s natural beauty is beguiling all year round.
In summer it is the quiet, gentle green glades that coquettishly beckon.
However, there is no doubt that nature weaves a particularly special palate of glorious color in autumn.
Come autumn and the terrace takes on a special life. It is time to sit and enjoy the quiet, and, with glass of wine in hand, ruminate upon the golden yellows and rich burgundy as the trees transform, preparing to shed for winter.
As winter descends it is time to stoke up the fire, shelter and enjoy the warmth of the library and the views of mist hanging over the dam.
Days merge here and in what may seem the blink of an eye, Spring arrives dressed in colors any celebrity would wear on the red carpet.