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. (Stopping by Woods on a Snow Evening, by Robert Frost) “Whose woods these are I think I know” is a fitting title to my first blog entry since July 2013. It is the feeling I get when I’m driving home from the Burlington airport; driving up our road, looking through the trees, across the meadow to our house. For more…