There is no month in the whole year in which nature wears a more beautiful appearance than in the month of August. Spring has many beauties, and May is a fresh and blooming month, but the charms of this time of year are enhanced by their contrast with the winter season. August has no such advantage. It comes when we remember nothing but clear skies, green fields, and sweet-smelling flowers—when the memory of snow, and ice, and bleak winds, has faded from our minds as completely as they have disappeared from the earth—and yet what a pleasant time it is! Orchards and fields sing with the sound of work; trees bend beneath the thick clusters of rich fruit which bow their branches to the ground; and the wheat, piled in graceful sheaves, or waving in every gentle wind that sweeps above it, tinges the landscape with a golden colour. A soft, pleasant light appears to hang over the whole earth; the influence of the season seems to extend itself even to a passing wagon, whose slow motion across the well-reaped field is seen by the eye, but makes no loud noises upon the ear.
(Adaptation from The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens)
1. What does this paragraph mainly describe?
2. What aspects does the author describe?
