More of the same today. My window looks into a snow dome, always being shaken by God's gentle hand. It is most beautiful, brown, gray and white. I remember in college when it was like this, Greg and I would make it a point to go for long walks to feel the snow falling on our hair, our scarves, our coats. One night we took off through the slick streets for the county roads. We found a field and in the dark and deepening snow we ran through that field, laughing and spinning. Just to do it, just to be out in it, just to be alive in the snow.

My son just walked in warming his pink ears, singing that old Dean Martin standard, "Baby, It's Cold Outside." What a goofball.

Me, I'm off for a walk in the snow.


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.

~Robert Frost
(This poem--how could I resist?)