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.
- Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening
it wasn't a snowy evening, but rather a snowy sunday.
seven or eight beautiful, fluffy inches fell through the morning, and then the sun came out and warmed the day to sparkling brilliance.
overnight, the temperature fell, fog formed, and when i woke this morning at 6:30, there was a glorious layer of rime ice on everything.
i got harper off to school, threw on clothes, boots, hat, scarf, gloves and coat, grabbed my camera, and went for a walk through my neighborhood in the brisk 5° air.
it was quiet, the trees were magical, and i took an hour to just be silent in the world.
my nostrils froze, my legs burned from the cold, my fingertips needed to be warmed after every shot, but it was all just what i needed to start this week in a much better head space.
sometimes, even when everything is awful, the universe reminds you that life is beautiful, and this world is full of amazing things.
we need to appreciate it, soak it in, and fight like hell to keep it that way.