a regular sapling swinger

"Birches" and all things Robert Frostian gripped me the other evening as I sat to write, even in Spring, not in snowy woods, but in the middle of my daffodils. But, sigh of relief, it was lost with all the other brilliant gripping thoughts on this here blog-erase-spot! But, he lives still, through those fantastic words, without me, swinging up and down on those trees toward heaven, reminding me of my country little girl life with small friend Melanie when we were bored out in the woods with some type of springy sapling. Nothing much seems so good as that, as RF captures thankfully on multiple real parchment isntead of only just air space like this blog and tree current. Yep, one could do worse than be a swinger of birches ....==); for instance, one could blog about birches instead.:)