I am growing a pot of forget-me-nots -- they are such tender things. I have to prop them on the side of the pot, the first brave ones. They came up too soon before the sun could toughen them up, and now their stems are too spindly to support the spreading green of their leaves. The other ones -- the ones that bided their time under the rich dark soil -- are not as tall. But because they grew in their own time, according to their own cycles and rhythms, they will be able to grow tall and hold their own in the world.
They are teaching me a lot, these little green things.
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs 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.
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