Work In Progress: stopping by the woods

10 February 2020

stopping by the woods

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

Robert Frost

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.