My sorrow, when she’s here with me,Thinks these dark days of autumn rainAre beautiful as days can be;She loves the bare, the withered tree;She walks the sodden pasture lane. Her pleasure will not let me stay.She talks and I am fain to list:She’s glad the birds are gone away,She’s glad her simple worsted greyIs silver…
Nature’s first green is gold,Her hardest hue to hold.Her early leaf’s a flower;But only so an hour.Then leaf subsides to leaf.So Eden sank to grief,So dawn goes down to day.Nothing gold can stay.— Robert Frost, Nothing Gold Can Stay Halfway through another month as I publish this, and I shake my head at the magic…
The warrior and the artist live by the same code of necessity, which dictates that the battle must be fought anew every day. — Steven Pressfield, The War of Art Very long days lend themselves to the notion of skipping things we promise ourselves we’ll do. Things like writing, for instance. But sometimes we must…
My object in living is to uniteMy avocation and my vocationAs my two eyes make one in sight.Only where love and need are one,And the work is play for mortal stakes,Is the deed ever really doneFor heaven and the future’s sakes.— Robert Frost, Two Tramps in Mud Time When people ask whether I’m traveling for…
When a friend calls to me from the roadAnd slows his horse to a meaning walk,I don’t stand still and look aroundOn all the hills I haven’t hoed,And shout from where I am, What is it?No, not as there is a time to talk.I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,Blade-end up and five feet…
“Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse nearBetween the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a…
There where it is we do not need the wall:He is all pine and I am apple orchard.My apple trees will never get acrossAnd eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonderIf I could put a notion in his…
Sunday restlessness prompted a short road trip up to an apple orchard for some apples and pumpkins. This proved to be too brief, so it seemed a good day to revisit the Robert Frost Farm. Maybe it was his poem October that inspired me, or maybe the beautiful fall day, but either way he whispered…
To those devoid of imagination a blank place on the map is a useless waste; to others, the most valuable part. – Aldo Leopold Blank places on maps are increasingly rare. With technology we’ve managed to reveal extraordinary detail on the contours of the land, water sources and potential sites to camp for the night. …
With apologies to the rest of the Starks, the best character arc in Game of Thrones is Arya’s. Beginning way back in season one when her father Ned talks about how she’ll grow up to marry a high lord and rule his castle, and she looks at him and replies, “No, that’s not me”. It’s…