On Wednesday, we had the perfect snow. It started here at three in the afternoon, much later than the promised noon, and by four, the world was white. We could hear children and adults all over the neighborhood having fun in the snow. Forest Hills Elementary, which we can see from our house, became a ski resort of people sliding down the hills in front of the school. Snow is so rare here it causes great excitement when it finally shows up.
I always think about the lovely Robert Frost poem, Stopping By the Woods on a Snowy Evening, anytime we have snow. We had to memorize this in high school, and my best friend and I thought the part about the little horse was hilarious. It has stayed with me almost fifty years, so we must have learned it well. Just in case you have forgotten it:
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.
Why, you are wondering, do I think it was the perfect snow? We watched it falling, we played in it, we had a snow day, we made snow cream, and lots of pictures. Then, before we had time to get tired of it, it melted away. By three o'clock on Thursday afternoon, it was just a memory.
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