Back when I was in school and enrolled in English classes, I remember some rather heated discussions about the Robert Frost poem “Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening."
Some of my classmates were convinced that the speaker was contemplating suicide.
Others thought Frost was extolling the value of taking time in one’s busy schedule to enjoy the wonder and beauty of nature.
Even though one commentator quoted Frost confessing to “moody pondering of mortality” just before he wrote the poem, listening to Randall Thompson’s and Eric Whitacre’s choral arrangements of this deceptively simple poem, I hold with those who favor the taking of time to be restored by the wonder of nature.
But to a naturalist, part of the wonder of watching the woods fill up is knowing the ecological value of snow.
Ideally, in a forest dark and deep, each autumn, a layer of fallen leaves creates a natural mulch which not only helps retain moisture, but also offers an insulating barrier to protect the tender, near-surface roots from cold in the winter and extreme heat in the summer.
The ideal situation is leaf mulch covered by a layer of snow.
Understand that snow is mostly trapped air.
Just like in goose down, the air trapped in snow forms an insulating barrier which protects the tender roots of trees and other plants from extreme and rapid temperature changes, and, in late winter, the damaging freeze/thaw cycles and frost heaves which rip unprotected roots' tips to shreds.
So in a forest dark and deep, blanketed with downy flakes, the woods have promises to keep. The promises of living.
