All the snow we are having this year reminds me of walking with a very little ABJ through the deep snow down the long driveway that wound through our white-carpeted woods at Windy Hill. I remember her listening with rapt attention as I recited my favorite Robert Frost poem -
Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
As people age they complain about the inconvenience, the shoveling and the cold but I have never gotten too old to lose my wonder and enjoyment of deep, thick snowfalls that muffle all sounds of life and force us to stay at home and rely on our own resources.
pumpkin pumpkin pumpkin
7 years ago