Monday, December 24, 2007

Feeling Robert Frosty

"Plane delayed to 1:40"

That was Jim, texting at 10:30 yesterday morning.

He'd taken The Nephew to Midway for his annual/obligatory Christmas in Minnesota with the woman who carried him around for nine months and then dropped him like a brilliant little blue-eyed potato to be raised by his grandmother, great grandmother, and anyone else willing to try. Anyway.

"Taking Grom for walkies," I reply, knowing that there's no way the Indomitable Dog could stand waiting 'til the afternoon for his Sunday constitutional by the river.

I check the temperature outside. 23 degrees. The wind is fierce and we've had a few snow squalls through the morning, but I know it's always better by the river.
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.
I'm right. It's perfect. Cold. Quiet. Snowy. Blowy. And not a soul in sight.

We park in the park and Grom is off - sniff, pee, sniff, pee, smile, sniff, pee, sniff.

I'm feeling all Robert Frosty and wondering at the small miracle of the snow-covered path when I realize it's snowing. Hard.

It's a blizzard. By the river.

And that's the reason no one else is on the trail.

My face starts to sting. I brush away the flakes from my eyes and look down to see my jeans caked with white.

Suddenly, Gromit does something he's never done in the seven year history of Walkies: He jumps up, puts his paws on my chest and grabs the leash right out of my hand.

Then he turns around and starts walking back to the car as if to say "Screw this, we're going home."

Wishing you a warm and dry Christmas. And a four-legged friend who reminds you when it's time to come in from the cold.

I am listening to: Joni Mitchell - River
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: The brain less traveled


Dave said...

Love the poem; and, got to love that Gromit.

Merry Christmas.

molly gras said...

Bless you and your lovely dog!

Hope Jim made it back OK -- and Pos and I loved the pics (now we can put a lovely face to the blogging name!)

Enjoy your Christmas day and we look forward to all of your 2008 posts.


Molly (AKA, Mrs. Pos)


Gromit Rocks..He gives me the bug to get a pup!

Happy New Year and a belated Christmas!

Hedy said...

Thanks, all for the wonderful Christmas comments.