Robert Frost wrote a poem in 1922 titled "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening".  For some reason, while going through thousands of my photographs this week - old and new - and despite the fact that snow has been basically on a leave of absence this winter season in the high mesa country, the poem has been wandering around in my head the last couple of days.  The poem has been analyzed, picked apart, assigned meaning, and multiple interpretations.  When I think about it, I take it at face value admiring the imagery, and the way Frost strung the words into lines and themes.  

"Whose woods these are I think I know..." reminds me of the many trips we have made, heading west and gaining elevation toward the pass on U. S. Highway 64.  Despite multiple visits, do I really know the woods in all their seasons?  Probably not, but I love them. nonetheless.  One stand of narrow leaf cottonwoods has always enchanted me.

narrow leaf cottonwoods color

narrow leaf cottonwoods black and whiteKONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

Oaks in New Mexico are generally scrub or Gambel oaks, rather than the tall, towering varieties of the eastern hardwood forests in the United States,  European oak forests or the live and white oaks growing in patches in California and Arizona.  Their growth habit is a tangle and beautifully messy.

oak tangle

Along the highway, just a few places fit Frost's line "the woods are lovely, dark, and deep...".  Plentiful water allows the growth of aspens and spruce "All Together", as I named this image, rendered here in black and white.

All together, black and white imageKONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

The woods tell their own stories, open to interpretation by the photographer or artist.

until next Monday,

DB

a passion for the image@