Snow Days

"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."


     When I was in the seventh grade, I memorized this poem by Robert Frost, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening."  I can still recite the entire poem from start to finish, but amazingly that same year I memorized hundreds of other lines of poetry by Mr. Frost, my favorite poet.  For some reason, this is the one I can remember best.  Every single time it snows, I think of that year of school and my determination to memorize as many poems as I could, but most of all I love the way the words come unbidden to my mind.


     I'm going on day three now of a snow-bound existence in my little house on the top of Coventry Drive.  I do not do well with isolation or having my freedom curtailed in any way.  Yesterday I managed to lollygag around, as we say here in the South, doing a little cooking, a little laundry, a little blogging....I even watched Dr. Phil and The Bachelor.  Today I was ready for a project and spent about 8 hours cleaning out my closet, only managing to get about half-way finished.  During the purging and tidying, I found myself getting extremely sentimental, sometimes to the point of tears as I discovered purses and wallets full of photographs of my baby girl and boy, clothes I wore when I was a young mom and small pieces of luggage still filled with mementos of trips I took with my kids to Chattanooga, Atlanta and Seagrove.  My closet was sort of like a giant time capsule, full of souvenirs of motherhood and marriage.  Where did that young wife and mother go? She seems a bit like a stranger to me now, although I love the pure heart and earnest dreams of that girl...


     When I was in middle school, I read all The Little House books and loved to imagine I was Laura Ingalls riding in a covered wagon, living in a log cabin and playing on the banks of Plum Creek.  I was a bit obsessed with her and just knew that I would have made an outstanding prairie girl.  One of the books in particular, The Long Winter, appealed to my romantic 12 year old self and I would daydream about being snow-bound with my loving family, isolated from the world in a silent shroud of white.  Of course, snowy days were few and far between to us little Georgia girls and it just seemed to be the most cozy, idyllic concept fathomable.  Now, I just wonder if our power is going to stay on and how far off spring break really is?


    On the first morning of snow in 2011, I looked out at a pristine, glistening landscape and marveled at God's handiwork as I do with most of His seasons and I was grateful for a little confinement and a little stillness.  Now, I am eager to return to my daily routine of lunching with my girlfriends, teaching my precious little students and taking my dog Harley out for a little stroll without fear of busting my butt on the driveway.  I am so thankful to be a Southern girl whose experience with ice and snow is limited and I am in awe and just a little bewildered at those Northern friends of mine who choose this as a way of life in the winter.  


    Thanks to my friend, Shay, who braved the hills of Woodfin and got me out tonight for sushi.  She was as stir-crazy as I was and it was nice to escape my icy fortress with her for a little while... 


"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."