Friday, January 29, 2010

Winter came down to our home one night
Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow,
And we, we were children once again.
~Bill Morgan, Jr.

And this scene brings to mind one of my all-time favorite 
poems by the inimitable Robert Frost

 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.
We are enjoying what has become a relatively rare occurrence 
in our area: a magnificent snow.
The air is dry and the flakes are light and fluffy. The snow has been coming down steadily since mid-day, and I can no longer even see the taller tufts of grass in my yard. Along the fence line, it has blown into deeper drifts. My dogs have been in and out all day, running their noses along the ground, snorting the snow, chasing the birds and squirrels and coming inside to shake themselves dry. They run to welcome me with noses wet and eyes glistening. They are happy, and so am I. My refrigerator is stocked, I have soup simmering gracefully on the stove, 
and my loved ones are all home safe and sound. 
I love the quiet of the snow. I am taking time to listen today.

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