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countessmouseI've been dealing with a bad cold the last 10 days and it's been rough. This is the first time I've really been sick like this in two years and I ended up missing four days of work last week -- something that very rarely happens. When I did go into the office on Friday, everyone acted like I had the plague and I ended up going home after half a day. Gunthar has been especially sweet in taking care of me. The man must have an iron constitution since he's managed to fight it off despite kissing me.
The weather has been vacillating between pleasant and chilly, as if it has been trying to make up its mind which way to go. I love Fall and wish I lived somewhere where the leaves changed with the season. Everything is still green (or brown). The landscape doesn't quite match the weather yet.
Anyway, the changes in the weather and plans for our ski trip in January have me longing for winter weather. Robert Frost has long been one of my favorite poets and in packing for my upcoming move, I pulled out my volume of his poems and read a few last night His poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" has to be one of my favorite poems. Every time I read it, I can hear the wind in the trees and the snow crunching underfoot, and smell the icy freshness of the air.
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.
The weather has been vacillating between pleasant and chilly, as if it has been trying to make up its mind which way to go. I love Fall and wish I lived somewhere where the leaves changed with the season. Everything is still green (or brown). The landscape doesn't quite match the weather yet.
Anyway, the changes in the weather and plans for our ski trip in January have me longing for winter weather. Robert Frost has long been one of my favorite poets and in packing for my upcoming move, I pulled out my volume of his poems and read a few last night His poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" has to be one of my favorite poems. Every time I read it, I can hear the wind in the trees and the snow crunching underfoot, and smell the icy freshness of the air.
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.
