Miles to Go Before I Sleep

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


Here I am on our front porch, ready to go!


Blurry photos that Nate took of me when I set out into the deep snow.



For some reason, this poem really seemed appropriate for me last night. I'm not sure why it popped into my head but it did.
We got about 15ish inches of snow yesterday, when the official count was finally taken. It was horrible -- for vehicles -- and perfect -- for skiing.
I skiied to work. At 5-o-clock, it was just barely dark when I left the house. It's about 1.5 miles to work, or 40 minutes on cross country skiis. Nathan bundled me up, put my dinner in my backpack and even attached lights to my pack, in the front and in back, so I would be visible. Not that I had much to worry about -- I think only 2 cars passed me along the way. But PLENTY of other people greeted me with laughter, smiles and greetings of "That looks like fun!" or "Is that girl skiing?!" (this from a child). Or, my personal favorite, the car full of teens that pulled over and made me smile for their cell phone camera. Why???? I'm not sure!
But it was on the way home, after midnight, that I enjoyed myself the most. NO ONE was out! In fact, I skiied right down the center of Eighth Street, the busiest street in town ... taking the time to stop, right in the middle, and look every which way ... no noise, no cars, no snow plows .... nothing but silence and the sound of my breath. VERY strange, and yet peaceful too. I felt like the only person in the world. On the way home, my skiis shuushed their way down the street and the houses all looked snug and secretive with their dark windows like unblinking eyes -- the snow hanging heavy over windows and doors like drooping eyelids. And that was when the poem came into my head ... "...and miles to go before I sleep..."