Benson and I got to discussing words last evening. We both love them. He has a far better grasp on how to properly use them than I do, but that doesn't stop my continuing attempts.
We love how putting certain words together, can create all types of
sensations. Sometimes the combination is made up of words that suddenly
make you hungry. Sometimes they make you feel all nostalgic. Other times
they cause you to feel totally frustrated. Occasionally they create the
sensation of great excitement. I could go on and on with the examples,
but my guess is that the words I chose to use, helped you get the idea I
am trying to convey. ;->
We talked about how slippery of things words have a tendency to be.
You can have your thoughts all organized, start talking, then suddenly a
word or two just totally disappears out of your line up. And of course
the now missing word is always
one of the majorly important words to getting across what your trying to
say. Or it's a person's name. Often the name of the person your talking
to! We both agreed that that is the most frustrating disappearing word
scenario! Your mind starts racing trying to come up with the now missing
name. It reminds you of their kids and or spouses name, or how many kids
they have. You remember what foods they do or don't like. Or types of
books. Or movies. Etc. Sometimes you remember something you did
together, or some time you were both at the same place. Often all kinds
of other information about them will suddenly pop to the forefront of
your brain. Everything except their name that is! It can be so
frustrating. And embarrassing.
We talked about how some people seem to have a real gift / knack
for using words, while other people seem to have no real flair for it
what-so-ever. And why was it that during our school days, too often
teachers assigned reading written by people that lacked greatly in the
flair department? Did they feel sorry for the authors and thus want to
give they sales a boost or what?!?
That then lead us to talking about poems. I shared that I swear I
had to memorize a couple thousand poems over the course of my schooling,
yet only a couple still easily come to mind. My favorite being one of Robert Frost's.
"Who's woods these are I do not know
His house is in the village low
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow..."
Benson's voice had joined mine by the second line.
He then went on to share what he pictured every time he heard it. He
always envisioned a man with a sleigh, all decked out in Christmas
greenery and laden down with packages. He thinks it is due to how we
always seemed to have to travel through lots of snow, to get to
Christmas. Sometimes so much snow, that we would have stayed home if it
had been any other day of the winter.
I, on the other hand, always envisioned an adult male, stopping
along the road at dusk. He was trudging up the road/hill on his way home
from his shop in town. The town where the man who owned the woods lived.
He knew the man and knew that he was of a high enough good character,
to not begrudge somebody else the pleasures of observing nature in his
The man who had stopped, was enjoying the rest from his daily hike
up the all too familiar road. He had always enjoyed the woods along the
road. But there was just something special on this particular night.
Maybe it was the first real snow of the season. Perhaps it was the way
the star light was being reflected in the falling flakes. Or maybe it
was just simply that his weary soul needed refreshed by the beauty in
front of him. After all, the poem did end,
"and miles to go before I sleep,
and miles to go before I sleep."
Was he referring to actual miles yet to travel, or the seemingly miles of tasks awaiting him?
I told Benson that I think my rendition has to do with my love of
being at summer camp. The camp I attended was literally in the middle of
the woods. And I LOVED it! I loved the long paths leading through the
woods to the various sections and camp fire. Even at night. I wasn't
scared of the 'unknown' in the woods. My fear was always that somebody I
knew would be hiding to scare me. And I hate
being scared. To tell you the truth, I have no idea if it ever
happened. That part is irrelevant to today's topic anyways. I LOVED
those woods and I had often wondered what they were like in the middle
of winter. I bet they were/are beautiful!
I'm curious. Do you too like that poem? If so, why? What have you always envisioned when hearing or reading it? If not, why not?
For the record, no, we were not discussing said poem due to missing
winter, seeings how we've been experiencing multiple days in the high
nineties with high humidities. That part was totally consequential.