(I thought I'd posted this many moons ago, but apparently not.) Everything outside is crusty with ice. The roads are slick with black ice; it was a pest just putting the recycle bin out this morning. It's snowing in Seattle, Portland's getting up to a foot of snow on Tuesday night, and we may be in for snow on Wednesday. It seems appropriate to point out that Robert Frost's famous poem, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," can be sung very well to the tune of "Hernando's Hideaway," as the following example shows:
Whose WOODS these ARE I thinkIknow.
His HOUSE is IN the villagethough;
He WILL not SEE me stoppinghere
To WATCH! hiswoodsfillupwithsnow (O-lé!).