Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower; 
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
I get this poem stuck in my head every fall, but it's not until I see it printed that I remember how freaking melancholy it is. Robert Frost had some heartache in that old white soul of his.
The photos are from this weekend, many in my in-laws backyard, more still from a drive I took with my mother-in-law. I adore autumn and dread it all at the same time, and Frost explains it exactly right.
More fancy photos of fall to come. Soon.
2 comments:
Beautiful. The poem and the photos - perfect compliments to one another. I think so many of us in the northern states revel in the colors of autumn, and feel the same dread you mentioned toward the oncoming winter.
I've always got that poem rattling around in my brain in fall too - I memorized it in the 9th grade. I still remember the cover of my poetry book for that year, with the initials of my big crush surrounded by little hearts, only to be scratched out by Thanksgiving...Life is no simpler now, is it? So good to see you all this weekend. (And I love mushrooms too, but always hated the Smurfs. When you think we've got it tough, imagine poor Smurfette's lot.)
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