Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
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.