Arrives the Snow ...

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight:
the whited air Hides hills
and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped,
the courier's feet Delayed,
all friends shut out,
the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
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by Ralph Waldo Emerson

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"Branches in the Snow"

Every Fern is tucked and set, 'Neath coverlet, Downy and soft and warm. ~~~ Susan Coolidge

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Photo: "Branches in the Snow" by Ansel Adams

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The weather forecasts have been bright and optimistic until the "day before" when freezing temperatures with snowfall predicted in white-out conditions prevail. While travel schedules must be re-arranged at times, it is a seasonal occurence we could not live without ~ especially as regards the wondrous beauty of it all.

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The Road to Tinkamtown

"The past never changes," he mused."You leave it and go on to the present, but it is still there, waiting for you to come back ..." ~~~ by Corey Ford

Look forward to seeing more of Corey Ford here in the "Fetters Setters ~ Tributes and Memories" section. The Lady of the House is in the process of preparing at least one fitting tribute to this fellow English Setter lover (among many other planned contributions).

However in the meantime, the more we looked at the picture below ~ if you look really close to the far end right side of the snow-covered country lane, you will see the figure of a man and his English Setter ~ the more it brought to mind Corey Ford's "The Road to Tinkhamtown" from his book, "The Best of Corey Ford."

Our roads and surrounding woodlands look like this tonight, a good night to stay in ~ with an ample supply of Hot Cider, plenty of warm pups in all colors and sizes at our feet and near the hearth ~ and work on the ever-expanding Fetters Setters Blog.
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For the full text of
Corey Ford's "The Road to Tinkhamtown", click here.
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Whose Woods These Are ...

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. ~~~ Robert Lee Frost

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