Returning
We escaped today. Yesterday our ferries were both off, and our car buried under an igloo of snow, but today the wind had lessened a bit and some snow had fallen off the car, so we attacked the rest of it and made the trip to The Other Side so that I could have my hair cut. It may be cold, but hatty hair that's way beyond the length of easy-care hair is also beyond a joke.
The sea really was that strange greenish-grey, and the clouds as dark as they look. Greenock had brief spells of sunshine, but it didn't spread. And somehow, after the stress of keeping the appointment and having a late lunch, Outdoors seemed less attractive than usual, even despite the nagging of my FitBit.
Time for the snow to go. I have journeys to make, promises to keep ...
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.
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