17 January 2008

The snow is so thick on my front lawn that walking across it leaves only depressions. White on white depressions-none of that awful bare spot a thin dusting produces.

The cats are completely unimpressed-"People! Wot's that cold, nasty, cold white stuff?!"

"In is Better!" So says Mozart, and Gonzo, as they shudder with the delicacy and disdain only cherished house cats can muster. They turn away from the horror of the open front door like society matrons presented with a colossal faux pas.

Neither cat is stupid, they managed to get In and In they will stay. Gonzo runs toward the interior every time the door opens; Mozart likes to casually sniff the air coming in and hint that perhaps, one day, but, no, not today thanks after all...

Meanwhile, People is out in the mess, the beautiful white picture perfect white Out, snapping picture after picture of the amazing and somehow restorative spectacle of the entire neighbourhood transfigured.

JEEZ! I hope the film develops! It is so cold out that the camera refused to snap pictures after I knocked off six. I had to come inside and let the camera warm up.

How lovely! I am not embarrassed to say that the sight of the fat wet flakes before the sun went down reminded me so much of Robert Frost's snowy woods poem.

How encouraging, the snowfall this Mid-January eve:)

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
(written in 1922, first published 1923)

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