Stopping By the Woods (Repost)

Now, I consider myself a "summer" person, however, it has been unusually hot here in North Carolina for most of the summer. The things that I enjoy about summer, like morning walks along the dewy paths and evenings spent on the front porch swing, have been next to impossible in this heat. Without these inspirational activities I seem to be experiencing writer's block. So, with that little confession out of the way, I thought I would repost one of my winter favorites. I think that I am hoping that reading this will somehow remind everyone that "this (hot weather) too shall come to pass." Enjoy! :)


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.



John, Carson, and I went for a walk in the snowy woods this morning. I couldn't help but to recall one of my favorite Robert Frost poems. "Stopping By the Woods."
The snow was blowing off of the trees and glistening in the air like glitter. John said that it looked like glitter from angels' wings. I would have to agree with him.

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.



John, Carson, and I went for a walk in the snowy woods this morning. I couldn't help but to recall one of my favorite Robert Frost poems. "Stopping By the Woods."
The snow was blowing off of the trees and glistening in the air like glitter. John said that it looked like glitter from angels' wings. I would have to agree with him.