For twenty-four hours, we have had winter winds of 20+ mph, and throughout the night they remained at a constant 25+ mph. These strong gusts are to remain for several more hours this Saturday morning.

Last night, I was a house manager at Victoria Theatre for the Muse Machine’s production, 9 TO 5. I got to see a number of folks I knew, some of whom were former students, and I worked with a terrific group of Volunteers who served as Ushers. Due to the thoughtfulness of Debi Gnau and her daughter, I was home an hour earlier than I was expecting.

I will spend the majority of my Saturday at Victoria Theatre for two more performances. I am looking forward to my Sunday before I begin teaching.

Make it a great day!

An Old Man’s Winter Night

Robert Frost   1874 – 1963

All out of doors looked darkly in at him
Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,
That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.
What kept him from remembering what it was
That brought him to that creaking room was age.
He stood with barrels round him—at a loss.
And having scared the cellar under him
In clomping there, he scared it once again
In clomping off;—and scared the outer night,
Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar
Of trees and crack of branches, common things,
But nothing so like beating on a box.
A light he was to no one but himself
Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,
A quiet light, and then not even that.
He consigned to the moon,—such as she was,
So late-arising,—to the broken moon
As better than the sun in any case
For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,
His icicles along the wall to keep;
And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt
Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted,
And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept.
One aged man—one man—can’t fill a house,
A farm, a countryside, or if he can,
It’s thus he does it of a winter night.