Last Day: Goals Met
We did, in fact reach the North Pole: (the end section marked with the pink taped pole). The view was amazing as we looked back over our plot of forest full of quaking beeches, pioneering poplars, towering oaks, and muscled ironwoods each bearing a tag which shimmered in the morning sun. I have also shown Jan and Lindsey (my roommate) entering our neck of the woods. I often expected The Lorax to greet us here and applaud our efforts to better understand his forest. I have come to appreciate how wondrous and majestic a forest truly is and better understand Frost's poem shown below with which I will leave you as this great adventure comes to a close.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake,
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep,
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-- Robert Frost





