[Jane Austen]

I like a white Christmas but there have been many a time I have felt like Cornnetta Jean.

Reminds me of one of my favorite poems by Robert Frost about the changing seasons:

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.

[jaycee]

Very lovely, Jane!