This Thanksgiving, we flew to the North Bay Area and spent five days with family and friends for Thanksgivukkah. We are grateful for:
- the kindness of TSA workers, flight attendants, and other random passengers who helped us lift car seats down the aisle, roll car seats to an emptier section of baggage claim, hand us our shoes or other gear.
- two great flights with kids who found joy in a plastic cup, full of ice or empty, who handled an hour-plus flight delay by buying into the explanation that the pilot had to go potty (Audrey announced to our gate neighbors that the pilot “had to pull his pants down”), who got up early and pushed nap and slept in the car and only had minor crabbiness to show for it.
- celebrating Hannukah and Thanksgiving and 5K races and chickens and music and family with Aunt Karen and Uncle Kevin and their friends.
- time outside in the warmth and sunshine: at the parks and neighborhoods of Santa Rosa, and in Palo Alto.
- a visit from Aunt Maya and her parents.
- meeting Baby Calvin and seeing his parents, John and Thuy.
- hanging out with always-gracious hosts Aunt Mary, Uncle Mark, and Bailey, and for Kirsten letting the kids play with her old toys.
- dinner with always-gracious hosts Slam, Rachida, Aya, and Noor.
- our first Christmas tree lighting.
- our first menorah lighting, with music.
- San Francisco (When we came to the MacArthur tunnel on Saturday evening, Jamie announced, “We’re going over the Golden Gate Bridge!” He had seen this tunnel several days before, in the light. Also, they like that it is orange.)
- Uncle Dan, for his boundless generosity, patience, and good humor, who helped us get from baggage claim to the rental cars at SFO, who chased kids around Stanford with us, and who hung in during our flight delay and helped us corral three tired and squirmy toddlers to security. Theresa has bestowed the highest honor she knows upon her godfather: she named her polar bear “Uncle Dan” (this from the girl who used to say any animal or doll’s name was “Theresa”). It’s no wonder we chose him as one of our kids’ godparents: we hope they all grow up to be as kind and thoughtful as he is.
A few weeks ago, I managed to go for a solo run in the morning.
A man pruning his hedge a few streets away in my neighborhood greeted me as I huffed up the hill. “You’re doing the right thing,” he said.
Dude, you have no idea.
You probably meant it was good to take advantage of a sunny, relatively warm day in October. You may have meant it was good to exercise.
You have no idea how much that meant to have a total stranger say that. You have no idea how hard it can be to claim “me” time.
Last Sunday at Mass, we gathered our kids from the babysitting room (our kids call it “Andrea and Lorenzo’s house,” named for the high schooler and her middle-school brother who babysit toddlers during Mass) and headed to Communion so they could get a blessing.
As we rounded the front row of pews to head to our spot at the back, John–a father of high school twin boys–said gravely, “Good job, parents.”
This, after weeks of stress and anxiety about wanting our kids to experience a spiritual tradition, wanting them to be part of the community, and spending that hour in agony over their very LOUD and CONSTANT narration of everything. Paranoid that the people who sit nearby secretly hope we are gone that Sunday. Apologizing to everyone around us to try to avoid the potential dirty look (which has never happened, but still…).
And the other day, I got this e-mail from my dad:
I loved reading the updates. They get cuter by the day. The FaceTime is awesome too, keep up the good work. You are an incredible mom!
So I decided that the world (or at least the world who reads this blog) needs to hear a Public Service Announcement:
Tell young parents that you notice they’re doing a good job. Even total strangers.
As a friend commented about this blog post recently on Facebook, I don’t know what it is about this generation of parents that makes us so neurotic. Did our moms agonize over every decision? Did they pore over parenting book after parenting book, hoping they didn’t screw up their kids’ emotional intelligence or prevent them from academic success?
I talked to a new triplet mama the other night for 40 minutes. She was having family issues with visits to the NICU, and worried her milk wouldn’t come in.
I listened. I told her my experiences (especially that those hospital forms that say your milk should peak at 10 days post-partum are horribly, horribly wrong; my milk peaked at 4 weeks post-partum and I am so glad I didn’t give up).
I told her, “You are doing everything right.”
She burst into tears.
I’m not sure how we got here, to this place of constant self-doubt and questioning and anxiety and fear. I’m not sure how we got here, but I know how we can lighten these burdens for each other.
We can tell those who come after us: You are doing it right. You are doing a good job. Keep at it, parents. It is unbelievably hard. There is no one true way other than the way of Love, and that we have in abundance.
This post is dedicated to the arrival of Ellie to our dear friends. Jen and Colin, these next few weeks will rock your world. Know this: no matter what you do, you are doing it right. She could not possibly have better parents than you.
I consider myself an organized person.
My former office mate, whose desk was almost spotless (even his stapler and paper clips were kept neatly in a drawer organizer), might beg to differ, having witnessed my piles and post-its and more piles. But I stacked neatly. I knew where things were.
And then we had triplets.
And then we decided to remodel our basement.
Our basement is under renovation so we don’t have to Shop-Vac up water that seeped through the carpet and pad from a hard rain (though Dylan did warn us that it was a-gonna fall…).
Which means that everything that used to be stored out of sight is now either in storage at our gracious friends’ house (in their basement), or in our bedroom and office/guest bedroom/crap storage room.
Our house wasn’t so horribly disorganized. I mean, I have been to homes that are clutter-sasters, the owners unwilling to part with items due to sentimentality or frugality or some other reason unfathomable to me. I am a ruthless purger.
But you know those houses where no matter what time or day you walk in, things are organized? Because the people living there have, like, systems, and they actually maintain the systems all the time? My sister-in-law AJ is like that. It’s amazing, and slightly intimidating.
I aspire to this. It makes me feel better to live in a clutter-free space. But we have so little time. When exactly do we claw our way out from under the piles–after the dishes are done, the e-mails responded to, the how-was-your-day-honey conversations had?
Since starting my part-time job this September, I had to figure out some things. First was how to feed myself and my family. Once we got that down after a few weeks, it was will I exercise or blog ever again? I strategized and got a schedule that worked.
And a few weeks ago, I realized that I was keeping up with the basic necessities as well as I could, but all the other things–the organizing, the paperwork, the volunteer commitments, the stuff that was backlogged in August–kept piling up. And piling up. And ohmygodI’mdrowning.
I couldn’t find socks because I hadn’t put away three loads of laundry. My sunglasses got buried in what is ironically termed our “organization station” on our kitchen counter. I wasted time I don’t have hunting things down. Everywhere I turned, I was tripping over STUFF: things we didn’t have a place for, or didn’t know what to do with, or were holding until we could donate it or give it back. SO. MUCH. STUFF.
And then our former nanny, the inimitable Abbie, volunteered with her boyfriend to take our kids out for most of a day so we could work on our house kid-free.
On this Saturday, after the kids left with Abbie and Gavin for the Children’s Museum, we spent an hour going over paperwork from six months ago. We spent an hour and a half cleaning out our bedroom, including the closet, which housed:
- approximately 82 dry cleaner hangers I’ve been meaning to bring back to the dry cleaners’
- enough cat hair to construct another cat
- a pair of shoes, not mine, that I borrowed probably four years ago and whose owner I have yet to find (are they yours? I can ship them back to you)
- Jimmy Hoffa
And then, Alan and I–gasp!–went out to lunch. In our neighborhood. By ourselves.
The office / guest bedroom is the next big project, as we only scratched the surface (but the surface revealed that we do actually still have a floor underneath all the cycled-out toys, bike tools, old birthday cards, and miscellany).
So thank you, Abbie and Gavin. Thank you for liking our children enough to take charge of them for five hours. Thank you for giving us the gift of time.
Updates: August to November
- Makes up his own lyrics to songs: “I love my elevator” (to the tune of Pete the Cat loving his white shoes)
- Loves singing “The Hello Song” to everything: “Hello, Mount Rainier, so glad to see you…”
- Quoting from Corduroy: “Quite by axskident…” Actually, he quotes from Corduroy all the time, including: “I didn’t know I’d lost a button!” The boy loves bears. Especially Bear, who goes with us pretty much everywhere.
- Sings loudly and long in his crib after lights-out, which often prompts Audrey to cry for us and ask us, “Make Jamie be quiet.”
- On descending the stairs: “I’m coming down so you better get the party started!”
- Master of the sideways shoulder hug
- Remembers so much: at bedtime, he said, “We maked the beach ball go up,” referring to the Children’s Museum air blower that lifts a beach ball inside a cage (which we have not been to in over a month).
- Favorite thing at playgrounds: climbing. Up ladders, stairs, stumps, etc. Often involving slides, but not always.
- Other favorite thing: running.
- Favorite favorite thing: drumming. On hippo statue at the zoo, on the bathtub, on a low wall at the aquarium, on upside-down strainers, on tabletops and trays, on cups, every available surface.
- Has become a fantastic helper (this from the little dude who used to cry whenever we asked him to put the book he was done with back on the shelf).
- Favorite exhibit at the zoo: water. Favorite exhibit at the aquarium: seeing the ferris wheel on the pier outside.
Updates: August to November:
- Wants to be very self-sufficient. The phrase we hear with hand-washing, tooth-brushing, face-wiping, etc: “Nonononono I do it.” (Not sure where she ever would have learned that…)
- Every time we go outside: “Mommy, is it okay if I do a little bit of tummy swinging?”
- So great about saying how she feels. T: “Mommy, I’m crying.” Me: “Why are you crying?” T: “Mommy, I’m feeling sad because Audrey has the kitty and I wanted it.” Re: thunder: “The boom-boom is loud and it makes you feel a little sad and scared.”
- Asks everyone and everything: “Are you okay?” with gentle pats on the back
- Says “c” for certain “p” words: “swimming cool,” and a poofy dog is a “coodle”. Last week we got a parking pass for music class, and she called it a “parking Kermit.”
- On hearing an ambulance siren: “If you fall in the parking lot, that would be NOT FUN. And if the ambulance runs over you, that would be NOT FUN.”
- Is very complimentary on attire: “Mommy, you look pretty stylish in your purple dress” and “Mommy, I like your sunflower necklace. It’s pretty nice and it’s really sparkly.”
- On describing pregnancy: “Mommy, I was in your heart, remember?”
- Finally naming a toy something other than “Theresa”: “The [Little Person] firefighter’s name is Steve.”
- Looking at a picture of a bear mailing a letter in an old-fashioned mailbox: “He’s paying for parking!”
- After listening to Sunday Night Football on the radio with Daddy on the way home from the park: every time we ride in the car, “I want to listen to the Seahawks!”
- Wrapped a round Target sticker as a “band-aid” for the “boo-boo” on her finger. After showing this to Nana via FaceTime, she unwrapped the sticker and put it flat on her nose. Nana: “Theresa, do you have a band-aid on your nose?” T: “No, Nana. I’m a pig!”
- Frequently heard: “I can!”
- Asks to “be my baby” so I rock her as if she were a baby, and she pretends to drink from a doll bottle, or asks to be “wrapped up” (swaddled).
- On Baby Colby needing a washcloth: “He’s all yogurty.”
- Moves promptly to the side of the path when she sees anyone or anything coming toward us, especially carts at the zoo.
- Loves the Paw-Paw Patch song and makes up who she’s looking for: “Where oh where oh where is Bunny…Way down yonder in the paw-paw catch!”
- Makes up silly words: “pippo” for “pillow”; “I want my milkie”; “Hold it in my armies”; “I want an app” (apple); “I wanna be nake-nake” (naked).
- As we drive home in twilight: “The light goes off and then it gets dark.”
- Has books memorized: she practically “read” 101 Dalmatians to us the other night.
- Loves hearing stories about how things happened: the day they were born, how the doctor checks your throat with a special flashlight, how she fell in the swimming pool.
- Gets so upset at my show of frustration. Instead of saying what I’d really like to say in those intense moments, I say, “Ohmygosh” in a tone that undoubtedly indicates my feelings. The last few times this has happened, Audrey started crying and wailed, “Mommy said ohmygosh!”
- So great at sharing: we started using a timer for taking turns, and she almost always gives up the toy when the timer goes off.
- Has internalized the “sharing words” (“May I play with that, please?”) and establishing boundaries (“I need my space, please!”), uses them appropriately and consistently.
In no particular order, some anecdotes and facts about our 29-month-old big kids:
- Halloween was really fun this year. We had four costumes so everyone had a choice: Audrey wanted the tiger, Jamie wanted the lion, and Theresa chose the monkey over the Winnie the Pooh costume. They loved practicing trick-or-treating, and were champs at our neighbors’ houses. They also had fun sorting the candy by package color, and dumping and refilling their pumpkins.
- Two out of three have gotten their first bee stings: Audrey on the upper leg in July (the bee landed on her car seat and she accidentally sat on it), and Theresa at the park a couple of weeks ago (the sluggish bee was on a step of the play structure, and crawled over her finger).
- At Target, we park in front of the escalators and watch the stairs move up and down. This is directly across from the electronics department with huge displays of TVs. The escalator wins every time.
- Bedtime stories rotate in popularity fast these days. A couple of months ago, Make Way for Ducklings (which they referred to as “Mr. Mallard”) and The Kissing Hand were must-haves before sleep. Now Lost in the Woods (or “the baby fawn book”), Madeline and the Cats of Rome, What Pete Ate from A to Z, and Toot and Puddle top the list.
- Running buddies: they love sticking their legs straight out in front of them, and we play the “getchoo game” when they press their hand to the clear plastic window on the stroller canopy so I can grab it, and listen to their giggles as I run.
- Their language usage continues to grow, and it is fascinating to see it develop. Audrey said something that sounded like “choist,” and when I asked her to say it again, she said something about “pick”–she was using “choice” as a verb and making it into a past participle, “choiced.” But she knew to circumlocute using the synonym of “pick” instead.
- Their imaginative play is also fascinating to watch. Theresa gives rides in the “stroller” (a lawn mower) for her bunny or baby doll. Audrey changes her baby’s diaper, feeds it, gives it rides on the zipline. They have named their dolls after actual babies, which is also endearing: Babies Bellamy, Colby, Stella, Zachary, Levi, and Jonah have all been monikers for the three baby dolls we have. [Note to any grandparent-type reading here: this is not a call for more dolls, thank you.] Jamie plays his “ukelele” (a ball ramp) like Teacher Mary Anne at music class, and turned the play skillet into a “banjo.” They all love cooking and having picnics with the pretend food. They wear Daddy’s helmet as they ride their “bike” (like Daddy) or “motorcycle” (like Ryan, our carpenter).
- They are a little obsessed with Ryan, our carpenter. He rides a motorcycle most days, which fascinates them, and they love waving to him as he enters and leaves. He tolerates the adoration well.
- They love picking up the CSA veggies with me. We predict what veggies are going to be in the box as we walk over in the wagon, and each kid gets a grocery bag into which I distribute the veggies evenly. Theresa usually gnaws on the greens as we walk home. Jamie gets very excited about each vegetable, and Audrey is quite particular about which ones go in her bag. They are learning more about vegetables than I knew till I was out of college. I think I ate raw carrots, cucumbers, iceberg lettuce, and corn when I was a kid. I did not know kohlrabi, kale, or different kinds of squash existed till much later, and I did not know that I would actually like brussels sprouts, or beets, or turnips, or parsnips, or even tomatoes.
- The girls like drawing with crayons, pencils, and chalk. We painted at the aquarium toddler time recently, which inspired me to obtain some paints for the winter. Theresa likes tracing her hand, and they both enjoy coloring birthday and other cards for people.
More often than not now, I turn off the music in the car so we can have a conversation. They are really fun to talk to. Some samples:
Passing by construction:
Me: Look, a cherry picker!
Audrey, sadly: I didn’t see the cherry picker.
Theresa: Audrey, the cherry picker misses you. It loves you.
Explanation of injury:
Theresa: Jamie, I have a boo-boo.
Me: Jamie, if someone has a boo-boo, you can ask, ‘Are you okay?’
Audrey, loudly: Are you okay, Theresa?
I started this blog for my cousins, who, as college athletes, needed healthy food but were going to be cooking in small dorm apartment kitchens with limited appliances. And, okay, just a tiny bit for myself as a writer, the self that had been hiding out from critics since 1999.
Then whoa, triplet pregnancy: the blog shifted into musings about parenting, child development, photos of my kids. These were primarily posted for what I thought were my only readers: pretty much my family and a couple of friends.
Then, WHOA: someone out in the blogosphere (Melinda, working mom of three and author of There Is a Season) read my blog. And liked it enough to pass on this Sunshine Award.
I feel like Whitman in “A noiseless, patient spider” who, having “launch’d forth filament, filament filament,” has finally connected with another human in the “measureless oceans of” the Internet (how’s that for mangled metaphor?). Thank you, Melinda! You made my week.
The Sunshine Award Rules
- Acknowledge the nominating blogger.
- Share 11 random facts about yourself.
- Answer 11 questions the nominating blogger has created for you.
- List 11 bloggers. They should be bloggers you believe deserve some recognition and a little blogging love!
- Post 11 questions for the bloggers you nominate to answer and let all the bloggers know they’ve been nominated. (You cannot nominate the blogger that nominated you.)
11 random facts about me
- My first “real” job (i.e. not babysitting) was as an office clerk for a funeral home.
- I met my husband at a vintage ballroom dance. He was in a tux and asked me to waltz.
- I will eat just about anything other than mushrooms and olives.
- I turned thirteen, got chicken pox, and moved all in the same week.
- One of my goals is 50 by 50 (blatantly imitating my friends Elisabeth and Tim): to see all 50 states by the time I turn 50.
- I’ve done three half-marathons, but these days I’m happy if I can run a 5K.
- I am really detail-oriented, and it frustrates me beyond reason when I lose something.
- My favorite meal is breakfast, when I have time to make something more than almond butter on an English muffin that I eat during my morning commute.
- I do not watch television. This is not to say I don’t think there are good shows on–there probably are, but I tend toward addiction with anything narrative (i.e. I zone out during sporting events but watch the commercials). It’s better if I keep away.
- I will always be a Red Sox fan.
- I like what I like, even if it’s out of the norm. In high school, I was listening to Frank Sinatra and watching Katharine Hepburn movies, and wishing I could have lived in the era of swing. A few years ago, I and a colleague would chat about Battlestar Galactica while everyone else in our office obsessed over American Idol or Lost (and, ahem, made fun of us for watching sci-fi).
11 questions for me
- What writers inspire you? Oh, so many…Toni Morrison, Salman Rushdie, Anne Lamott, Barbara Kingsolver, Annie DIllard, Henry David Thoreau, and on and on…
- How do you make time to write? I stay up past my bedtime.
- What is the last book you read? The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams.
- What is the one talent you would trade (almost) everything to have? Craftiness. I am sadly lacking in the “let me create and structure an arts and crafts project for my kids” department.
- Who is your favorite established blogger? Beth Woolsey of Five Kids Is a Lot of Kids, and Deb Perelman of Smitten Kitchen
- What’s your favorite television show? [See #9 above.] Past favorite shows: Battlestar Galactica (the new one), The Muppet Show, M*A*S*H
- What’s something from the past that you believe we should bring back? Neon scrunchies, clearly. Or, actually, how about letter writing? I miss writing actual letters.
- What modern device/convenience/trend etc. do you wish we could send packing? Texting as a substitute for conversation. It’s convenient for quick-response questions, but if you want more substantial communication, just talk to the person.
- What’s your dream job (besides parent or writer)? I have it already: teacher. Though dream teaching would involve very small classes, short school days, and a personal assistant to do all the bureaucratic paper-pushing.
- What’s the best gift you ever received? Grace. I mean, the waffle-maker was nice but kind of doesn’t hold a candle.
- What is your favorite children’s book? For little kids: Sesame Street’s The Monster at the End of This Book (my dad did Grover’s voice, and it was awesome.) For slightly older kids: Anne of Green Gables.
Bloggers I believe deserve a bigger audience
Okay, this is embarrassing: I don’t read a lot of blogs. Most of the ones I read already have substantial followings. These are ones I have discovered either by knowing the author or by having the author check in at my own blog. They are diverse and fascinating and passionately written.
- Multiple Realities
- A Game of Diapers
- Endless Skies
- The Injection
- Gotta Find a Home
11 questions for my nominated bloggers
- Who’s your favorite Muppet?
- What was the last movie you saw in the theater?
- What was your favorite class in high school?
- What’s one thing from your childhood that you wish you still had?
- When was the last time you got a full night’s sleep?
- What fictional character or song best describes you?
- Best advice you’ve ever heard?
- Scariest thing you’ve ever done?
- Nicest compliment you’ve ever received?
- What compels you to blog?
- What’s one piece of advice you would give to a new blogger?
Two new mom-friends of mine are due with triplets any day now (both past 30 weeks, and one at 35 and counting!). I have been meaning to visit them while they’re on bedrest, to listen to their fears and hopes, to offer my experience and advice when invited, to sit with the uncertainty and expectation.
I have not been able to make it yet last week or this week. So, Melanie and Noele, this is in lieu of an actual presence by your chair. Some unsolicited advice for you that will probably work for all new parents but especially those of multiples:
I spent much of the first year of triplet parenting in terror and shame by comparisons. How would I ever be able to do the things other parents did with their kids, even twin parents: take their infants to a coffee shop to meet up with other parents? Take my kids to parks or other outings by myself? What was wrong with me that I felt so panicky at the thought of being alone in so many environments that seemed unsafe?
The number of places I felt safe going solo was fairly small, and I often felt stuck. As they became mobile, I only went to fully-enclosed places, almost all of them indoors.
I inched toward independence. At 9 months, we went on our first walk together, just the four of us.
After that, we took lots of walks together. I figured out how to carry three babies up two flights of stairs by myself. For outings, I started where all three could be strapped in: quick trips into stores with a kid in the Ergo and two in the double jogger, to Target where they have shopping carts with seatbelts for three. A short trip recently to Whole Foods with a kid in the Ergo, one in the cart seat, and one in the cart bucket (obviously not for a week’s worth of groceries). Then to music class when our nanny was sick–again, a confined space.
Our nannies current and former all took the kids somewhere outdoors by themselves.
I picked at my paranoia like a scab. Why couldn’t I do this? Would my kids be more clingy to me, getting upset if they wanted to swing while their siblings wanted to play elsewhere? Would they test boundaries with me more? Every time we went for a walk in the neighborhood, I tried to avoid walking by the playground, because I felt so guilty when they asked, “Can we go to the park?”
Doing something new always terrified me. And I agonized over why I didn’t feel more confident, why I wasn’t like those other moms who “just can’t stay home” and “have to get out every day.”
Here’s what I have realized in the almost two and a half years that I have been a parent: a) I should have been nicer to myself, because b) being outnumbered three-to-one is SO HARD.
Because yesterday, we went to the zoo, and our nanny took Theresa who wanted to see the elephants, and I took Jamie and Audrey who wanted to see the hippos and giraffes. They ran ahead, or stopped to pick up a cool stick, or look at an interesting sign, and ran some more, and saw lots of animals.
And it was SO EASY. Tracking two? A hundred thousand times easier than tracking three.
This is not to say that twin parents have it easy–absolutely not. It is not to say that parents of one kid have it easy–parenting is hard no matter how many kids you have.
But my anxiety about the safety of being alone with all three? It was okay to feel that way. I didn’t need to constantly compare myself to other moms, even other moms of triplets. I didn’t understand when people told me what I was doing was that hard. I have only learned this in hindsight, so I’m telling you:
Do what makes you feel comfortable. Not what other moms do, or what you always thought you’d do. Everything is scary with three little ones, so the first time you’re home alone with them, the first time you put them all to bed by yourself, the first time you take them all for a walk: it’s a lump-in-the-throat, giant leap into the black hole of stress.
But it’s worth it. You won’t always feel stuck. And when you do succeed, you will feel like you can conquer anything.
On Tuesday, I took all three 2 1/3-year-olds to the playground. By myself.
It felt safe. Comfortable. I can do this.
You will get there, I promise. I’ll be cheering you on.
Some photos from our weekend in the Cascades. I was reciting Frost and Eliot in my head, remembering another hike long ago with friends Kelly and Allegra and Rob and Allegra’s friend: 10 miles from Muir Woods to Stinson Beach and back, where Kelly and I tried to recite Eliot and Wordsworth and other poems to each other as we walked under the redwoods.
Vermont, you always have my heart, but Washington also speaks to my spirit.
Mountains are giant, restful, absorbent. You can heave your spirit into a mountain, and the mountain will keep it, folded, and not throw it back as creeks will. The creeks are all the world with all its stimulus and beauty; I live there. But the mountains are home.
–Annie Dillard, from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
Landscapes: New Hampshire
Children’s voices in the orchard
Between the blossom- and the fruit-time:
Golden head, crimson head,
Between the green tip and the root.
Black wing, brown wing, hover over;
Twenty years and the spring is over;
To-day grieves, to-morrow grieves,
Cover me over, light-in-leaves;
Golden head, black wing,
Swing up into the apple-tree.
(I know this one is about spring, not fall, but I love the line “Cover me over, light-in-leaves”–sunlight through leaves is one of the most beautiful things I have seen.)
Nothing Gold Can Stay
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.