love.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening -Robert Frost


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.

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.

fridays are my favorite

i really like violin history.

and pretty leaves. 

and motorcycles.

and settlers of catan.

and pulled pork sandwiches.

and sunshine.

and flannel shirts.

and laughs, even amid coughs.