This post's title is the first line from a famous poem by Robert Frost. Below are some pics taken recently. More celebration of trees, as well as an interesting view of the house from the west. The house can be seen in the last photo between a big paper birch and one of its own side sprouts.
Which makes me think of the end to another Frost poem:
I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches
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