“Nature’s first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold;
Her early leaf’s a flower, but only so an hour.
So leaf subsides to leaf, so Eden sank to grief;
So dawn goes down to day, nothing gold can stay.
Well, Mr. Frost, I know that you are the expert on poetry, and this is one of my favorites. But I am just wondering about the oaks that fill my woods with leaves every year. I’ve been out pre-gardening in a Corona Virus -free environment for a few hours, and have had ample opportunity to examine those newborn baby oak leaves up close. They are red, not gold, believe it or not. However, the next line is right on. “Her early leaf’s a flower”. Soon those babies will open up into exquisite miniature pink blossoms. I’ve seen it every year here in New Hampshire. This is a good year to watch for their short-lived beauty, as so many of our normal distractions have been swiped off the calendar.
Just one more thing. I take exception to the idea that “nothing gold can stay”. I know what you were getting at, but I disagree, and I hope you figured that one out.
If there are any botanists out there, I am willing to be corrected.
