Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost, 1874-1963
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.
Walking in the woods tempts all of my senses; the earthy scent, crunchy of snow under my feet, cool air on my skin, and the taste of snowflakes on my tongue. After finishing this painting, this Robert Frost poem, always a favorite, came to mind. Funny how just what you need comes to the surface at just the right time if you stay open.
A wood of silent evergreens stand sentry to Mount Superior on the Wasatch Front within the Snowbird Resort in Utah.