snowy evenings are for robert frost

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snowyEvenings like this remind me of when I was a kid.  We lived across the road from a wonderful man and his wife and family for a while when I was little named David Gwinn.  His nickname was the squire.

It was on his property I first learned to ride, groom a horse, muck out a stall.  I saw my first truly baby foal and met all sorts of very cool horses. He also had a marvelous collection of carriages and sleighs.  And in the wintertime when it would snow like this on the beginning of a weekend we prayed for lots and lots of snow because if we were very lucky he would take us for an old fashioned sleigh ride.  Usually he took the adults, but that’s another story altogether.

Anyway, that is but one memory when it comes to snowy evenings.  The other is much more simple: my love of Robert Frost poetry.  So here ya’ go kids, one of my favorite Robert Frost poems:

By Robert Frost 1874–1963

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.