Winter

It rained a lot last night - just a few more degrees and it could have been a nice big snow. I am decidedly against winter. I am much more comfortable poolside with a book at 95 degrees. But the winter does have a certain allure.

Here's a favorite poem of mine by Frost, called "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.