dual personalities

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.

–Robert Frost

It is the time of year when I always think of this poem.

Keep your eyes open for the “Golden Hour” when the sun is just at the point on the horizon that the light is redder and softer than usual, and it hits the golden and orange leaves of the trees and turns them into molten gold.

All too soon it will be dark driving home and winter will be upon us. I am never ready for that.

[The painting is by Eric Sloane.]