Let me start off by saying that I need a vacation BADLY!
My friend wants me to come visit her in San Diego at the end of May and drive up to L.A. to see REM at the Hollywood Bowl - which sounds amazing... I just don't know if I can wait that long. Arghhh!
I think I'm going to head out to Portland or Seattle (or both) in the next few months as well. The Pacific Northwest has been calling me lately... if I fall in love with it enough I might have to consider moving up there for a while, who knows. I've kind of been desiring some change lately... and I'm sure it doesn't help that I've lived in Phoenix my entire life. 'Nuff said.
A friend referenced this poem the other day. I went back and read it for the first time in like 10 years and I have to say I had forgotten how amazing this poem is:
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'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.
What do his words say to you?
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I think I'm going to head out to Portland or Seattle (or both) in the next few months as well. The Pacific Northwest has been calling me lately... if I fall in love with it enough I might have to consider moving up there for a while, who knows. I've kind of been desiring some change lately... and I'm sure it doesn't help that I've lived in Phoenix my entire life. 'Nuff said.
A friend referenced this poem the other day. I went back and read it for the first time in like 10 years and I have to say I had forgotten how amazing this poem is:
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'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.
What do his words say to you?
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
toxic:
Hell yeah! Let me know when you plan on coming hun!
greenapplemary:
Thanks!