As we approach the time that I must move from this place I enjoy the rides in the woods a bit more. No idea how, because they basically gave me a new lease on life when I got here a few years ago. Cherokee and I spent hours both at sunrise before work and well after sunset negotiating the woods.
The shot below was taken on one of those quiet solo rides in the chill of early winter. There’s just something inviting about a dim unexplored patch of woods. Together we’ve found a lot of those.
Anyway, got to thinking about my workday and the realtime demands that keep you from wandering off and exploring. Reminded me of something I read long ago… one of those poems everyone sees as a kid shortly after the point where they finally get to quit reading “See the cat run? Run, cat, run”.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
1923… 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.
I can identify. Been a lotta times I’m pretty sure Cherokee looked back with a “What were you thinking?” look when I tarried in some odd place.
Anyway… work is a good thing. In our current economy nobody in his right mind complains about *having* to do it. We’re thankful, it keeps bread on the table. Still, there’s the trade-off shown in the words above. Not a complaint, just an observation.
There’s still light out for about an hour… and that patch of winter rye up there oughta be in good form about now. Maybe it’s time to saddle up.
Hope your day ends as nicely.
Regards ~ Rob