seeing the forest through the trees

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

by Robert Frost

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.

 

Before the decorations went up I thought we should do this:

Create our own visions of winter wonderlands

The hands of a happy happening-by neighbor friend gladly joining the fun!

This one is a relic of Christmases Past

Boo's little tree in the corner looking very much like what we look for in a tree.

...it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...