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.
Robert Frost
There is something extremely cozy and magical about snow.
Have a wonderful weekend,
my little freezing friends.
Sending love your way!
xoxo
~d
Burrrrr..........I really do like the snow until it reaches that grayish, dingy color. And then, along comes new snow to make it all beautiful again.
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