A Frosty Day

I’ve been reclaiming the stone wall by the barn. It’s funny how something as subtle as meadow grass can cause a fifty pound stone to fall off a wall. I really like this little wall that sits in the shade of the little old apple tree and the huge old pines. Everything about this part of the property is old: the barns, the trees, the rocks, and the wall. Everything except the new plants that grow up each year and would take back the whole lot of it. This afternoon I went out armed with gloves and clippers and filled a wagon with what we call “pricker bushes”. I don’t know what they actually are called, but “prickers” pretty much describe them. Then I raked up the oak leaves and the old grass and dumped it all over the bank (every good Vermonter has a bank over which he can dump unwanted things, right?).

Robert Frost’s poem Mending Wall has always been one of my favorites for a few reasons, not the least of which is because my Dad has been known to recite it at appropriate times. I don’t like to read meaning into Frost’s poetry for the most part. The images they conjure up for me are sufficient and beautiful. They are home. Spring makes just about everyone wax poetic, and I am certainly no exception. I’ll spare you my own flimsy lines; here’s some Mending Wall instead:

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

And Hyla Brook:

By June our brook’s run out of song and speed.
Sought for much after that, it will be found
Either to have gone groping underground
(And taken with it all the Hyla breed
That shouted in the mist a month ago,
Like ghost of sleigh-bells in a ghost of snow)—
Or flourished and come up in jewel-weed,
Weak foliage that is blown upon and bent
Even against the way its waters went.
Its bed is left a faded paper sheet
Of dead leaves stuck together by the heat—
A brook to none but who remember long.
This as it will be seen is other far
Than with brooks taken otherwhere in song.
We love the things we love for what they are.

Want more? Go to the library! I’d give you more, but my kids are screaming at each other and my spring revelry is broken. Alas.

1 Response to “A Frosty Day”

  1. 1 PatL
    March 31, 2006 at 10:12 pm

    What stylish pictures, my dear!! And yes, the weather does make one wax [fill in the blank, it varies from soul to soul]. Not to be a wet blanket, but … there could yet be another snow in the ole season yet. I had to remind myself of that today as I was tempted to put plants outdoors for the sunshine!

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My blog. Herein read entries related to who and what is important to me. Feel free to leave comments. I feel free to delete them if I don't like them. So there. By reading about my life, readers should expect to begin to see their own lives as increasingly more organized and sophisticated, their homes cleaner and neater.

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Well, mostly this is for my family to see pictures and read anecdotes about the kids. It's also a venue for telling the story of my struggles and victories in my life as a Christian, a wife, a mother, and a teacher. Occasionally I toss in some weird or touching item that I've found.

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The Gospel is the news that Jesus Christ, the Righteous One, died for our sins and rose again, eternally triumphant over all his enemies, so that there is now no condemnation for those who believe, but only everlasting joy. [as said by John Piper]

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