With apologies to Robert Frost

Too often Robert Frost's last lines to "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" serve as a mantra to remind me of the amount of things I need to accomplish during a given day. Today I have been reciting the whole poem and I dedicate my 5:00 blog to Frost's thoughts as I paused this afternoon to take a picture of the snowy meadows adjacent to the Homestead. I'd like to take some time and go snowshoeing this evening (I have no horse to ride), but the reality is even though I don't have to go anywhere, I still have promises to keep and piles of paperwork to get through before I sleep. Piles of paperwork and pages of reading to do before I sleep. But those woods are lovely, dark, and deep - and snowshoeing here in Jersey is not guaranteed each year.
For those of you unfamiliar with his work, the whole poem appears at the end of this entry.

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's 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's 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.