I have felt a lot of kinship with Robert Frost this past week. Like Frost, I was out cutting up a tree that had fallen across a fence during the winter. Say what you will about the weather in Vermont, it is never boring (snooze on Shawn).
In Two Tramps In Mud Time, there are nine stanzas. Three of them are devoted to the natural world during mud season in Vermont. He is essentially chronicling the signs of the times. I can identify with that.
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