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.
"Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"
Brett's been discouraged lately by the thought that we might get through this school year without any snow days. She's a senior, so she wouldn't have to make them up at the end of the school year, and she is convinced that the stars or fate or karma or the Channel 13 First Alert Weather Team has conspired with Mother Nature to make sure that she puts in every single day of class on this year's Southeast Polk calendar.
It's funny how different people react to snow days. I'm sure for many, snow days are a pain, an obstacle to whatever work needs to be done. I know I have colleagues who hate them, since every day we take off for weather from November through April has to be made up at the end of May, or even the beginning of June if we have enough of them. I can understand their objections. At face value, it does seem better to be out of school on a warm, sunny spring day than when the hounds of winter are howling outside.
Still, I love snow days. At our house, they tend to be lazy, relaxing days when we hang out in our pajamas, watch movies and play games together. Snow days bring with them the aroma of chili or chicken noodle soup in the crock pot, and the comfort of an afternoon nap in the recliner. So often, our lives seem incredibly rushed during the week as we go from school and work to chores to other activities. Snow days are the opposite: things seem to go in slow-motion as we slow down and enjoy as a family the fact that the weather is more powerful than the Google calendar.
So tomorrow morning, when my alarm goes off at 5:30, I will start my day off like I'm sure many of my students will, by turning on the TV and checking the messages on my phone in hopes of seeing those magical words: Southeast Polk Closed.