Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
BY ROBERT FROST
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.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Tala: "How do some people have time to raise kids, make real food and little crafts and BLOG about it? I'll never be that organized..."
Amanda: "And they don't just make any food...they...like...make food in the shapes of things that make people love God more!"