The Hazel Tree

Walking around Taynish woods in the early summer sunshine, I was reminded of these words by the American poet Robert Frost. The newly-emerged leaves of the oak trees were making the hillside glow with a rich gold.   It won’t last long – every day will see them turn a slightly deeper green, as summer gathers pace – but while it lasts, it is pure magic. “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