Snowy Woods

Dear Diary,

I was in a poetic frame of mind yesterday so this view of the woods next to my back field recalled the Robert Frost poem I love so much:

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 woods too are filling up with snow after repeated snow storms.  Robert Frost was New England's beloved poet laureate and he lived in several places in New Hampshire and Vermont.  I've visited his Derry, New Hampshire farm many years ago but I haven't seen his Vermont home where this poem was written.  Sounds like a good field trip for this summer.

All poetry begins with landscape and our reaction to it I think.  It certainly was so for Frost and my other favorite New England poet, Emily Dickinson.  I suppose, in my simple way, I try to do through my photographs what they did with their words...to discover the poetry of place.

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.