Tag: Robert Frost

Posted in Five Friday Happy Bringers

Five Friday Happy Bringers 4/17/26

Posted on by Neal Saye

My weekly gratitude journal, of sorts.

1. For some reason this hole in an old piece of wood at the top of a wire fence at a local farm made me smile a bit and think.

Sometimes it’s what’s NOT there that somehow wields its way to the center of attention.

2. Sticking to that line of thinking, one morning this week. I woke up, looked at our breakfast table and saw that Robert had cleaned up a bit a little flower arrangement that was moving past its prime.

It made me smile again, perhaps with a melancholic edge, appreciating the beauty that was, and in a way, still is.

That little morning moment also made me think of Frost’s oh-so-truthful 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.

Note to self: Enjoy it all while I still can.

3. Accidental photographs that somehow express a surprising hint of beauty.

Dashboard of our little Hyundai Accent.

4. Salt and pepper.

I love our salt and pepper shakers too.

5. Robert and Benny.

May you have Plenty to Love this weekend.

Posted in Holidays and Seasonal Changes

Nothing Gold

Posted on by Neal Saye

I know that the poet is right, but just for today, January 1st, I’m going to hold onto gold as if it lasts forever.

***********

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.

— Robert Frost

Fort Mountain State Park, Chatsworth, Georgia
Posted in Monday Musings

Miles to Go

Posted on by Neal Saye
Hydrangea paniculata

After Forsyth Park Farmers Market-ing Saturday morning, Robert and I were walking home, minding our own business, when out of the blue, the Universe spoke to me again. (A fairly common occurrence these days.)

“It’s the end of October,” I thought. “Isn’t it a little late for hydrangeas to still be blooming?” But glancing up and down the row of bushes, I noticed that all the other hydrangeas were NOT blooming, except for this LONE, stubborn survivor.

I was mesmerized, the bloom just SO very June fresh.

“It’s rude to stare,” she interrupted my thoughts, a bit offended.

“Sorry, I didn’t meant to stare. But I’m floored to see you here when all of your … your brothers and sisters are … are less than alive.” (My awkward attempt to avoid further rudeness.)

“May I ask why you ARE still here?” I timidly wondered.

Her demeanor shifted, and she smiled the tiniest of smiles.

“I suppose you can, but I’ll let Frost answer for me.”

The woods are lovely dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost

I walked home with lively, renewed fervor in my step.