Steve, It reminds me of the poem "Nothing Gold Can Stay" by Robert Frost:
"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."
Learn these lyrics, because they'll serve you well in Mexico:
We come from the land of the ice and snow, From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow. The hammer of the gods, Will drive our ships to new lands, To fight the horde singing and crying: "Valhalla I am coming!"
On we sweep, With thrashing oar. Our only goal will be the western shore.
We come from the land of the ice and snow, From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow. Sultry fields of green, Whispered tales of Gods, Of how we calmed the tides of war, We are your overlords.
On we sweep, With thrashing oar. Our only goal will be the western shore.
(BTW, it's the closing number at all of the really loud teenage parties here, too.)
In all seriousness, I don't think we really have one, or maybe we're having it now? The weather is a bit chilly at 60 degrees; Bitty Bobb is in permanent sweater mode. There's no color change though, not like I've seen up north. What's funny is that next week, we could be in shorts again... and in shorts for Christmas as well.
8 comments:
Steve,
It reminds me of the poem "Nothing Gold Can Stay" by Robert Frost:
"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."
Beautiful picture, Steve... and I agree, so wistful.
Bob -- Nice poetic connection.
Cairelle -- Another fall almost at an end. When does Autumn hit New Orleans? I cannot really recall a true fall when I lived in Laredo.
Steve -
Nicely done hombre!
Learn these lyrics, because they'll serve you well in Mexico:
We come from the land of the ice and snow,
From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow.
The hammer of the gods,
Will drive our ships to new lands,
To fight the horde singing and crying:
"Valhalla I am coming!"
On we sweep,
With thrashing oar.
Our only goal will be the western shore.
We come from the land of the ice and snow,
From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow.
Sultry fields of green,
Whispered tales of Gods,
Of how we calmed the tides of war,
We are your overlords.
On we sweep,
With thrashing oar.
Our only goal will be the western shore.
(BTW, it's the closing number at all of the really loud teenage parties here, too.)
I like that leaf and its beautiful color. Very nice.
John -- Why, thank you, sir!
Jennifer -- I will add it to my fading repertoire.
LOL! Autumn? What's that?
In all seriousness, I don't think we really have one, or maybe we're having it now? The weather is a bit chilly at 60 degrees; Bitty Bobb is in permanent sweater mode. There's no color change though, not like I've seen up north. What's funny is that next week, we could be in shorts again... and in shorts for Christmas as well.
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