Babs writes: While most of the color is gone the yellows seem to stay around longer. These were one day last week and with sun on them I was impressed. Enjoy.
But of course. And I recommend clicking for the big picture, too. You can get lost in the leaves.
Do you remember “Margaret” – the one who wept as the leaves fell, not realizing yet just what it was that made her ache? Every year about this time I think of the English teacher I did not much like who nonetheless introduced me to the power of spoken poetry with this very poem. No wonder I’m trapped amongst the Victorians. I can still hear her reciting . . .
Spring and Fall
by Gerard Manley Hopkins
to a young child
Márgarét, áre you gríeving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! ás the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It ís the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.