The woods are lovely

Justin Trudeau is the new Canadian Prime Minister.

Even in Scotland, his father's was a familiar name to me when I was small, perhaps partly because my folks lived in Canada when he was Prime Minister. I remember stories of his impact on the country.

So Justin's success gives me an excuse, if it was needed, to blip some nice leaves, link to the beautiful eulogy he gave at his father's funeral  and to quote the Robert Frost poem he referenced:


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.