Sitting here working with a cat curled up (paws, ears, and tail now toasty after her scampering out on the back porch) nearby, I look out into the snow coming down out in the back yard...
My thoughts turn from the hurly burly of the world outside my corner of the world and towards the deep silence out back as I watch the small clumps of flakes fall.
Not surprisingly, as I look at the snow gracing each branch of the trees out back, poetry comes to mind.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by: Robert Frost
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 the 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.
The music playing? An itunes mix called "Melancholy Winter" starts out with Tori Amos:
What's up in your neck of the woods this January day?