The Calm of Snow and Home

The calm and attention paid by two siblings in playing with a simple toy, when not compelled by the screen every ten minutes!

The view into the series of back yards lined up along the creek.

Snow falling in our neighborhood on a quiet Monday afternoon.

My family has been screen free for one official week. (plus a few hours!) Thank you God for this blessing.

The sense of calm that has come over my home is a relief.

~ breathe ~

Today the snow has begun to fall, reminding me much of Robert Frost's poem... let's see how many wonderfully descriptive lines still linger like downy flake in my mind:

Whose wood these are I think I know;

His house is in the village though.

He will not see me stopping here to see his woods fill up with snow,

Between the woods and frozen lake.

The darkest evening of the year.

My little horse must think it queer to stop without a farm house near.

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. Miles to go before I sleep.

This is not an accurate portrayal of Frost's poem, but rather what has been a part of me and my world since I was nine years old and first read "Stopping by woods on a snowy eve". A child must not know every poet, or memorize all of one author's works. A child must be given time and space to grow her own world around a single poem- one of good quality. Twaddle will not do.

I truly enjoy poetry, from Rumi to Dickinsen to Frost and e. e. cummings... even some HOWL! will fill my plate pleasantly! But if I had only known one poem growing up, I would still have this passion for poetic description. It still affects how I see the world, how I write, how I philosophize.

Isnt it amazing how a single poem, read at age nine, can aid in developing a life philosophy!?

Choose carefully for your children and yourself. Their world is, in part, dependent on the quality of literary food you present them.

Note: I was going to set a link for the actual Robert Frost poem, but it seems that I have remembered it so accurately, that a link is not needed. :)