December Muse Day: The First Snowfall

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

I have loved the poems of Robert Frost since I was first introduced to them in junior high, and this poem is my all-time favorite. The last four lines have always seemed to be the mantra of my life.

I hadn't planned on using this poem today, thinking it would be a good one to save for January or February when we were knee-deep in snow and opportunities for good snow pictures would be plentiful. But I awoke this morning to a surprising scene . . .

The first snow of the year fell during the night, creating a scene that was Christmas card perfect.

Despite the color camera, the landscape was a study of contrasts in black and white.


Just yesterday Husband mowed the lawn, and the helichrysum, left in the container for winter interest, was still alive.

Coneflowers now wear their winter hats.

The autumn pumpkins sport more than just frost.

No drinking from the birdbath for now.

Roco's memorial: A blanket of white keeps my dear

pet warm in his resting place.

While the living find the first snow the perfect playground.

The pine branches bow with the extra weight . . .

. . .covered with the perfect Christmas decoration.

The flowering crab is tinted pink today.

A dollop of whipped frosting on the berries for the birds.

A leaf frozen in time.

No need to worry about getting out of the lane, but on this day the house is a cozy retreat; the world can wait until another day.

Unlike the howling blizzards of January, this November snow fell silently and gently through the night, gilding the trees and the garden in shades of white on white.

No photo, no poem can re-create the magical beauty of this morning.

Garden Muse Day is brought to you the first of every month by Carolyn Gail; visit her for more poetry and thoughts on December.

Nancy Bond has sponsored the First Snowfall Project; to see more posts about the first snows across the world, visit here. (Wasn't I fortunate to combine both in one post:)? )