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White Fields - James Stephens
In the winter time we go,
Walking in the fields of snow;
Where there is no grass at all:
Where the top of every wall,
Every fence and every tree,
Is as white as white can be,
Pointing out the way we came,
Everyone one of them the same----
All across the fields there be
Prints in silvery filigree;
And our mothers always know,
By our footprints in the snow,
Where the children go.
Lu Blanchard is semi-retired and spends free time with family, reading, dancing, singing and enjoying outdoor activities.
Dianna Morris lives in Marcy and fell in love with the woods as a young girl. She is currently attempting to climb all the 46 ADK High Peaks - only 28 more to go.
Harold Pier taught chemistry at Utica College for 40 years and was an avid biker, hiker and skiier after retiring in 2000. He contributed to this blog from its inception in March 2012 until his death in October 2012.
