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Nothing Gold Can Stay

~ shoreacres ~ 68 Comments
Tall Goldenrod (Solidago altissima) ~ Hardin County

When Robert Frost wrote his wonderfully memorable poem titled “Nothing Gold Can Stay,” the ephemeral golds of spring — those first leaves that so quickly lose their luster — provided the inspiration.

That said, I often think of his words in fall, when the landscape is washed in waves of gold: seaside and fragrant goldenrod in coastal areas, tall goldenrod farther inland.  Occasional goldenrods bloom here in every month of the year, particularly along the coast, but autumn is its most glorious season. Having arrived, it already is ending: not even goldenrod 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.
Tall goldenrod ~ Nacogdoches Native Plant Center

 

Comments always are welcome.

Waiting for ‘Fall Day’

~ shoreacres ~ 58 Comments
  Brazoria Wildlife Refuge ~ September 19

Eric Berger and Matt Lanza, two of Houston’s most trusted meteorologists, maintain a website called Space City Weather. Yesterday, Eric wrote:

A few years ago Dan Reilly, the warning coordination meteorologist at the local National Weather Service, and I were discussing fall cool fronts. We agreed the first day it truly felt like fall in Houston should be a holiday.
Every year since, Space City Weather has designated the first day it will truly feel like ‘fall’ in Houston as Fall Day. This year, that day comes on Wednesday, September 22, after a front moves through overnight and brings much cooler and drier air to the region. It may not be an official holiday, but it sure should be one after we survive summer.

‘Survival’ seems precisely the right term. As August drags into September, the combined pressures of heat, humidity, and hurricanes weigh ever more heavily. Memories of our extraordinary February freeze began to fade in the rising summer heat, just as the browns and grays of a stunned landscape turned once again to green.

Wolf Lake ~ February 28
Big Slough ~ August 8
Teal Pond ~ June 13

Despite our eagerness for autumn, summer’s greens — along with summer’s heat and humidity — will linger into October. But a freshening breeze from the north will make the waiting more bearable, and the first hints of color will make the summer that remains even sweeter. It’s a happy coincidence that this year’s ‘Fall Day’ will occur on the autumn equinox. We’re ready.

 

Comments always are welcome.

The Last Sunset

~ shoreacres ~ 84 Comments

 

Strictly speaking, this is far from the world’s last sunset; in truth, it’s not even the last sunset I’ll see from my beloved third story perch above the water. But it is the last sunset I’ll photograph from this perch. In little more than a week I will have made the move from my unobstructed view of sky and water to a ground-level view of cypress trees, pedestrian hedges, and very little sky.

Friends know I’ve been pondering this move for some time. Only the sky, the water, and the night birds have prevented a move to a smaller, more economical apartment without the stairs that could become a liability in future years. Finally, overcome by a fit of rationality, I made the decision. Today, stacks of book-filled boxes and empty walls attest to an undeniable reality: another chapter is closing.

In time, I’ll search out other sunsets, and discover unexpected treasures in a new setting. But now it’s time to move on, and the words of the poet Horace seem fitting:

No one’s allowed to know his fate,
Not you, not me: don’t ask, don’t hunt for answers
In tea leaves or palms. Be patient with whatever comes.
This could be our last winter, it could be many
More, pounding the Tuscan Sea on these rocks:
Do what you must, be wise, cut your vines
And forget about hope. Time goes running, even
As we talk. Take the present, the future’s no one’s affair.

 

Comments always are welcome.
The lines of “Ode I. 11”  are taken from The Essential Horace: Odes, Epodes, Satires and Epistles, edited and translated from the Latin by Burton Raffel. © Northpoint Press, 1983.

Breaking Bud

~ shoreacres ~ 60 Comments
Mexican primrose-willow (Ludwigia octovalvis) opening to greet the day

Found on a snake, adjacent bands of red and yellow call for caution. Found on a branch, adjacent splashes of red and yellow are pure pleasure.

Here, an opening bud and spent flower show off the glorious colors of Mexican primrose-willow.  Their yellow flowers and red-touched stems, buds, and sepals provide a first touch of traditional autumn color, and prove that petal-peeping can be as satisfying as leaf-peeping.

 

Comments always are welcome.