Whose woods these are I think I know…

Fresh snow blankets the woods and creates a contemplative and companionable silence in this photo that reminds me of the things I love about snowfall.  I guess most American schoolkids of the right age have read the Robert Frost poem that is the source of my title.  Frost apparently tossed the poem off in a few minutes time, after having been up all night writing a longer and more difficult poem.  It just came to him, the way things sometimes do when you least expect them.  (1 December, 2003  Bane’s cabin, Waynesville, North Carolina)

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