Returning

We escaped today. Yesterday our ferries were both off, and our car buried under an igloo of snow, but today the wind had lessened a bit and some snow had fallen off the car, so we attacked the rest of it and made the trip to The Other Side so that I could have my hair cut. It may be cold, but hatty hair that's way beyond the length of easy-care hair is also beyond a joke.

The sea really was that strange greenish-grey, and the clouds as dark as they look. Greenock had brief spells of sunshine, but it didn't spread. And somehow, after the stress of keeping the appointment and having a late lunch, Outdoors seemed less attractive than usual, even despite the nagging of my FitBit.

Time for the snow to go. I have journeys to make, promises to keep ...

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
BY ROBERT FROST


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.