Stopping By Woods: A Winter Remembrance (the final chapter)

I felt a wee bit guilty leaving Minnesota again. What kind of Norwegian was I? The years of easy living in warm places had softened me up, thinned my blood.

We moved to the panhandle of Northern Florida, to an area often referred to by those in the know as the “Redneck Riviera” y’all. To the less fortunate, gullible souls reeled in by slick advertising paid for by the condominium developers, the area is romantically referred to as “the Emerald Coast”. Sounds a lot better doesn’t it? During certain times of the year the beach is indeed incredibly gorgeous - picturesque even. But during July & August, the waters become soupy with stinky, slimy seaweed that coats the white sand with its insect infested greenery. It’s nasty & putrid to swim in, but it can be entertaining if you’re up for looking like a swamp creature when you arise from its oozing depths.

We stayed for thirteen years. My daughter earned the title of G.R.I.T.S. That stands for “Girl Raised In The South”. She got to develop a close and loving relationship with her paternal grandparents and we never found ourselves shoveling snow during a blizzard again. We did do some major hurricane clean-ups, but there lies another story.

Then Texas beckoned and we moved to Plano just north of Dallas two years ago. Inexplicably, it was here last winter that I again heard the siren call of Robert Frost’s poem, “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening”. I didn’t realize it right away though.

The challenge was to create a piece of art inspired by the phrase “winter’s chill”. That’s right. The Plano Art Association had these monthly art challenges and January’s theme beckoned me to try and come up with something worthy of winning the top prize, a gift certificate to the local art store.

I took my digital camera out to the park near my home and photographed several trees standing naked to the world. I then printed out black & white copies to use for the collage I was planning on creating. (I love doing collages – I’m a multi-media enthusiast!) Over the course of a few days, I did indeed create a picture, but something missing. I wanted to catch the feeling, the sensation of being chilled by a wintery day. I also wanted to express my appreciation of the raw beauty that a snowy winter is capable of. From my lifetime, I reviewed my experiences of living in Minnesota, South Carolina, California, Alabama, Texas and out of the ether of my thoughts came a poem floating on a current of cold winter air.

As if I’d intended to do it all along, l wrote the verses from the poem in various places throughout the painting. It was now complete. I went to the meeting, entered my piece into the competition and WON! (Photo of painting is at the top of this post.)

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

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.