A Late Walk & a neck-warmer

A Late Walk

When I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words

A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you. 

This is a favorite for me by Robert Frost. I studied his poetry in High School in the late 60's and  when I think of poetry, he comes to mind. I liked his writing, I liked his words, I liked his face. I think of this poem sometimes when I walk our property in the country. Funny how something stays with you so clearly for so many years.

I always think of his poems in the cold weather because many of them were written about the snowy, wintery days.

The wood-stove is on and all the cats are snoozin' and

I bought a neck-warmer today.

In Canada, sometimes you really need one of these.

It's not cold enough for me to put a hat on but I always want a neck-warmer.

It was wrapped around a sheep's neck when I first spotted it.  "Sorry, little lamb." The Wool Grower is my favorite shop and it is right in our little town of Carleton Place. I buy my sweaters, skirts, mitts, scarves, whatever there.  They have it all and everything they carry is beautifully made and unique. I dropped in to return a belt and passed by a little wooden lamb standing outside the front door with a neck-warmer on. She needed it today at -10 degrees but I had my eye on it so when the lady removed it from her woolly neck she replaced it with one not quite so lovely but just as warm and woolly. We both said at the same time "she will need one tonight".

Keeping the neck warm even though the sun is shining.

Kane has his own neck-warmer. "Let's go"

Kane & I are not letting this cold weather keep us from our walks. 

hugs, Deb