February Frost

Yesterday, Carly and I put out some mugs (after we danced on the deck with our tongues hanging out) in anticipation of the snow to come--and the ice cream we would make from it.

the late evening loot

this morning's batch
(never fear, my dad scooped up a big bowl and we had snow ice cream for dessert last night while we watched the opening ceremonies--where they're having to ship in snow, oddly enough)

a news reporter said today you can tell the tourists from the locals in downtown atlanta last night--and this time, it's the locals who have their cameras out!

i really love this one-some for it's journalistic nature and composition-and a lot for the two people in it (my dad and carly being two peas in a...snowy pod)

A Winter Eden

A winter garden in an alder swamp,
Where conies now come out to sun and romp,
As near a paradise as it can be
And not melt snow or start a dormant tree.

It lifts existence on a plane of snow
One level higher than the earth below,
One level nearer heaven overhead,
And last year's berries shining scarlet red.

It lifts a gaunt luxuriating beast
Where he can stretch and hold his highest feat
On some wild apple tree's young tender bark,
What well may prove the year's high girdle mark.

So near to paradise all pairing ends:
Here loveless birds now flock as winter friends,
Content with bud-inspecting. They presume
To say which buds are leaf and which are bloom.

A feather-hammer gives a double knock.
This Eden day is done at two o'clock.
An hour of winter day might seem too short
To make it worth life's while to wake and sport.

Robert Frost