Nothing Gold Can Stay

First, for anyone still reading, my apologies for a lack of updates. This turned into a rather busy year and time has been far more restricted than normal, remarkably so. However, autumn is not only upon us but nearly over. But then, autumn seems to be always so fleeting.  That seemingly boundless pallet of colours, that appears around now, is always abrupt. That brevity is probably best captured in Robert Frost's "Nothing Gold Can Stay". Of course, its imagery may be extended well beyond my thoughts of Autumn and for that reason, is even truer in these strange and worrying times. 

It was this poem that came to mind as I took my camera to a hidden area of a somewhat rewilded area - a former "lido" so popular in the '50s and '60s in working-class areas - found nestled and hidden at the centre of an industrialised area in Stoke On Trent. Not too far from former, heavily worked coal mines.  Pulling out my camera, I captured the photo below.  As we begin the journey into winter, I thought I might share.

Nothing Gold Can Stay
By Robert Frost

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.