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
I know this poem might feel a little cliché to some people, but it’s always been one of my favorites. For Christmas in 1998 (I was 17) my grandmother gave me a beautiful, hardcover anthology of Frost’s poetry, ordered thematically by the seasons of the year and accompanied by beautiful photographs of the natural world; it is one of my most beloved possessions. I have always loved poetry, but I find that with each year of my life it becomes more and more meaningful to me. And, now I find myself drawn to the woods to make my own photographs, my own homage to the beauty of the natural world. Thank you, Gram, for that long-ago gift that is still giving me pleasure and inspiring me all of these many years later.
