Bowman PatriciaRobert Frost is a perennial presence in our lives, arriving each year alongside the green grass. For fifteen years, even into his eighties, he has graced us with his wisdom. A contemplator at well-curbs, a wanderer through snowy woods, a friend to birch trees, and a mender of walls, Frost is intimately familiar with the rhythms of country life. Like Thoreau, he is a “home-cosmographer,” finding the world within the confines of his local surroundings. Currently residing in Ripton, Vermont, Frost spends his summers and early autumns in a cabin on the Homer Noble place, surrounded by the majestic Green Mountain peaks.
When Frost welcomes you into his snugly built cabin, he becomes the life of his own party, engaging in lively conversation with the ease of a seasoned host. His charm is most evident in his words, which possess a rare freshness and provocation. Frost has the uncanny ability to infuse any topic with a sense of significance, delivering profound insights with the casual grace of a seasoned storyteller. His conversations are like unwrapping a carefully packaged gift, each word unfolding with precision and timing, leaving a lasting impression on the listener.
Accompanying Frost on a walk is akin to embarking on a journey of both body and mind. Setting out from his Ripton cabin with Gillie, his loyal Border collie, Frost navigates the woodlands with the agility of a fox, his steps deliberate and nimble. As he leads the way, he shares anecdotes and musings on a myriad of topics, from poetry and politics to science and history. Frost’s mind traverses vast landscapes of knowledge, effortlessly weaving between subjects with a depth of understanding that belies his years.
During our walks, Frost’s keen eye for nature is ever-present. He identifies plants and shrubs with the precision of a botanist, his curiosity piqued by the mysteries of the natural world. Together, we explore the fern-bordered wood roads and high swamps, discovering orchids and rare flowers along the way. Frost’s enthusiasm for discovery is infectious, his thirst for knowledge driving us deeper into the wilderness.
As we traverse the rugged terrain, Frost reflects on his life and work with humility and candor. Poetry, he confesses, was not a predetermined path but rather a series of fortuitous discoveries. He shares anecdotes from his past, recalling the skepticism of his grandfather and the challenges he faced as a young poet. Yet, despite the trials and tribulations, Frost remains steadfast in his commitment to his craft, finding inspiration in the beauty of the natural world.
Our walks with Frost are not just journeys through the wilderness but voyages of the soul. In his presence, we are reminded of the profound interconnectedness of all things, the delicate balance between light and shadow, joy and sorrow. Frost’s words resonate like echoes in the forest, lingering long after the walk has ended. As we bid him farewell at his farm, we carry with us the memory of his wisdom and the promise of future encounters with this remarkable man of letters.
