A deep snow blankets the land. I look outside the table where I study, and see millions of puffy flakes descending to earth.
We are expecting up to two feet of the white stuff. A little strange given we're already into march.
I know I said I would reserve this forum for more 'substantive' remarks, but I couldn't help writing a quick post. The scene brings to mind the words of Robert Frost--a very appropriate, New England icon, who aptly captures the scene I now witness:
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's 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's 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.
And miles to go before I sleep. Two papers, one thesis chapter and a bevy of emotions to be exact. All in good time.