Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening in Porter Preserve

Whose woods these are I think I know . . .

"Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost has always been one of my favorite poems.  It tells the story of a person who stops to admire the beauty of a snowy woodland scene before continuing on his way. 

I found myself in the character's shoes the other afternoon as Karine and I took Cay, our boisterous German Shepherd, to the Boothbay Landtrust's Porter Preserve for his daily romp in the woods.  Although Karine and I have grown to love the Landtrust trails since coming to Boothbay Harbor, our affection pales in comparison to the joy expressed by Cay as it nears the time for his walks each day, especially since the ground has been covered by snow.  He rolls in it, charges about with his head buried to his ears like a minature snowplow, and runs up and down the trails with enthusiastic abandon. 

As often happens on our walks, Karine and I stopped to admire a particularly beautful scene.  The snow hung from trees tipped with icicles inches long, the granite of the rocky landscape burst through the foot of snow that covered the ground in places, as though to remind us it still reigned supreme in the Maine geography.  It was absolutely still, except for the distinctive tapping of a woodpecker in the distance.

Suddenly, we heard a deep "Woof" and Cay appeared at the head of the trail, insistently beckoning us to resume our snowy trek.  Like the little horse in the Frost poem, he thought it "queer" for us to stop for no apparent reason, not when there might be squirrels to chase further up the trail!

Too often, people are so busy they don't allow themselves time to enjoy the beauty of a walk in the woods.  Like the character in the poem they "have promises to keep" instead. 

Because Cay needs his exercise, however, we are able to combine an essential task with a wonderful outdoor experience on a daily basis.   Thanks to the Boothbay Landtrust, Porter Preserve and other superb woodland treks are available year-round for our, and everyone elses', enjoyment.

Its about time to take Cay out again.  If dogs could talk (let alone recite poetry!), I'm sure he would be begging us there would be many "miles to go before I sleep."