I'm just fascinated by light. These days it's the light coming onto, and through, the new green that has exploded since the beginning of spring.
I remember, in elementary school, having a crayon with the name "spring green." Back then, I thought each name on a crayon was an official name; if I'd known about oil paints, I would have assumed there would be one on every artist's palette called "spring green," different from plain old green or "pine green."
I think of those "spring green" crayons every time winter comes to an end. The green of spring is so alive, so amazing.
I think also of Robert Frost's "Nature's first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold..." I can't help it; it comes to mind each year, and the beauty and newness of "spring green" have that sober note in the background, certainly. But even Robert Frost's poetry with its reflection on Eden's sinking to grief cannot dampen my spirits when green is coming alive all around.
That's partly just because it is so absolutely gorgeous and soul-awakening, and also because I don't believe that Eden sinking to grief is the final story. No, one day there will be no sinking to grief, no leaf subsiding to leaf. Someday all that is gold will stay, whether the gold of the proverbial streets of gold, or the gold of a person being "good as gold."
In the meantime, I'm thankful for glimpses of gold and green that pierce this earthly life with moments of sublime beauty. And while the photos don't do it justice, that's what happens on days when I get home in time to see the sun at just the right point to shine on our front yard. I leave the wooden door open and stand there and marvel at the sheer "spring green" of it all. Something is resurrected in me as that light shines onto the grass and into the darkened doorway.
Fascinating what light can do.
(For those not familiar with the poem....)
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.
1 comment:
Snow finally evaporating in Fairbanks. Where it all goes, I don't really know, except some of it pools instead of evaporating.
It always amazes me, however, to find that after seven months of harsh winter, there is green grass that begins to show along with the gold. It's an intersting site to wonder about; how exactly does grass stay green through sub zero degree weather and underneath all that snow.
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