Tag Archives: Robert Frost

Pictures and Words

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When I was new to scrapbooking, I followed Ali Edwards’s blog. Her philosophy of scrapbooking is “pictures and words.” Together both tell the story of our lives. I no longer scrapbook in a formal kind of way although I may start again. What I have found, though, is the importance of letting photographs and images convey stories. And I’m rediscovering my love of poetry.

Last week, I was walking around the ponds with the camera. It’s winter here in South Carolina (even though the temperatures are not very winterish). But I was out in the coolness, bundled in my son’s Marine Corps sweatshirt, looking at whatever caught my eye. And this cedar caught my eye.untitled-16

And as I looked at the cedar, and then later at the image, Robert Frost came to mind:

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. 

Remember that poem Johnny quoted in The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton? I read that book way back when I was in seventh or eighth grade. The poem “Nothing Gold Can Stay” has stayed with me for more than forty years (yes, I’ve been out of high school for almost 41 years!).  The gold tips of the cedar reminded me that this gold will subside into green as the cedar needles continue to grow. Perhaps if I were to go back to that same tree on the other side of the pond, take a picture of the same branch, those gold tips would be green now. Time passes; youth become adulthood. . . .

The gold of autumn, too, has subsided. I’m waiting for my grandmother’s camellia to bloom in the next month or so. I’m still waiting for the sasanqua camellia to bloom as well. I think I saw some golden buds on the bushes last week. . . . .

This week, look for the gold. And look for the beauty.

Imperfectly Perfect—Contemplative Photography

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There is a philosophy in Japanese art called wabi sabi. It’s not easily defined, however, and my understanding of it is growing daily. In this way of thinking, one understands that nothing is permanent and nothing is completely perfect; there are, though, perfect imperfections. And those imperfections make something “perfect.” It’s a paradox.

Even Robert Frost the poet recognized that nothing is permanent or perfect in the poem “Nothing Gold Can Stay.”

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.

I am terrible about knowing the names of the plants and bushes and flowers that grow around my home. But we have this bush that grows around the pond with these wonderful feathery flowers, I guess you call them. They last just a short time, and then they become seeds blowing in the wind.

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In just a few days, these “feathers” open up and become this:

fuzzy-flower

Soft, ethereal, transient. . . . “Nothing gold can stay.”