Intros to chapters have descriptions of nature:

Chapter I
It was the month of primroses. A warm spring rain had fallen throughout the day and the evening air was heavy with the perfume of bursting buds.

Chapter II
It was still the month of primroses. After a warm rain that had fallen throughout the preceding day the morning dawned on a refreshed landscape. The varying shades of sunkissed greenery were most entrancing; across the billowy grassland the sweet notes of the red-winged blackbird charmed the ear, while far beyond the valley the dark woodland was relieved here and there by bright patches of red bud. Occasionally the bob white's soft call was wafted along on the dewy breath of morn and all nature seemed to rejoice.

Chapter IV
It is now yellow October, no longer divide from summer by the plumsy sheaf and lingering flowers.
There is a rich, hectic flush on the woodland and every wind that blows pales the crimson hue or scatters its beauty on the empty air, for everywhere around us leaves are falling. In the orchard a few apples hang and the elders still nod under the weight of purple berries. As evening approaches the landscape seems to assume a sober hue and the call of the cow falls on the ear with a sad sound and produces a low feeling which we are seldom sensible of at the change of any other season of the year. Everything is decaying to produce the life and beauty of a coming spring.

Chapter V
It was a fine morning in October and the brilliant foliage of the hills was fast thinning out. The meadows were still green in spots and the shocked corn on the faraway slopes looked for all the world like some vast tented army. The year's crops had for the most part been garnered, and the joyous farmers stood in clumps about the tiny trading places and talked of the bountiful yield.

Chapter XI
The morning broke bright and clear. The first snow had fallen during the night and the landscape wore a mantle of purest white. The black, crooked pathways of the streams were clearly marked through the hills and bottom lands, and around the snow capped stacks the shivering cattle huddled.

Chapter XVIII
It is the first day of January and soon the lengthening daylight will fall upon the dim patches of green and show where gentle spring lies sleeping.
It is too early for the hardy crocus to throw its banded gold across the pathway, but the bluebird, spring's first harbinger, calls to the "rathe primrose" from the naked hawthorn spray to open its yellow eyes as its sits huddled up in its cloak of green. The trees covered with hoarfrost are beautiful to look upon, and the wild grass bending beneath its weight seems laden with crystals.

Chapter XXI
The hawthorne berries are beginning to show red in the hedges, and we see scarlet heps (fruit of the dog rose) where only a short while ago the clustering sweet briar bloomed. Here and there in sunny places the bramble berries have begun to blacken, yet many yet wear a crude red, while some are green. The bee seems to move wearily, while the happy gleaners dot the cornfields and contrast strangely with the rich morsels of color. It is September.