Welcome to 24 Days of Making, Doing, and Being, a digital Advent calendar for slowing down and making space for presence, creativity, and gratitude. If you missed a day you can catch up here.
Hello friends,
I’m sharing Robert Frost’s words today, an annual ritual in this calendar.
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.
-Robert Frost
The annual sharing of this poem is intended to create a pause. A long deep breath before the coming days.
I grew up with the illustrated edition of Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, done by Susan Jeffers and published in 1978. We would always read it aloud around this time of year.
The words land much differently with age, much darker than my younger self was attuned to. But I still love coming back to them.
In reading about the poem, I came across the story of composer Eric Whitacre, and his rendition of Frost’s classic. During the winter of 1999, Whitacre was contacted by a professional mezzo-soprano who wanted to commission a choral work in honor of her parents. She wanted the piece to be set to her favorite poem, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.