Snow white it’s Blue

So snow white it's blue
So snow white it’s blue

Along the route of…

Old is new

Slate to tin roofs.

You can see dusky corn rows

and,

into the heart of tomorrow.

All the while,

snow white sorrow

Pretentious and antiquated and ancient and misspoken.

Glimpses of a past paid for in tokens.

Granite blue and red with sunset morale.

So snow white it's blue
So snow white it’s blue

Deserted fields with one lone buxom cow.

Gingerbread, maple and fire sift the air.

It would seem the newest of England does not care.

A postal box envisioned by primitive design.

Last stop…missing the sign.

Wildlife encounters and other oblique…traveling shows

Mountains upon mountains of nowhere to go.

Snow white would only be fit the beguiled few

“Poetry is what gets lost in translation.”  ― Robert Frost
“Poetry is what gets lost in translation.”
― Robert Frost

A narrow state of mind…nothing new.

Grandpa’s Deere up on wooden blocks.

Too many, too many’s, pawned at the shop.

Looks like Poe’s the raven.

Feels like Frost’s haven.

Fierce farmland, as far as, the vulture flies

Windchill’s torment a native daughter’s third eye.

Styrofoam sounds like dripping mountain dews.

Underneath, snow white so blue.

Piney sap.

So snow white it's blue
So snow white it’s blue

A Mother’s milk and Mother’s mishap.

Skin stretched out over a dimming fall

Stoned in granite over it all.

Scenic one leading to one more.

Agape, another English styled country store.

Clothes lines made up of crippled shaker chairs.

Bumper-ed Harley’s loosing their flare.

So snow white it's blue
So snow white it’s blue

It is a granite state of mind…

Earthen embryo by design…

Enough with the Maple

Because New Hampshir-ites are rigid and cold…having just gone through a horrific winter.  And, because…after a great while of promise (temps in the 30’s)…we warm up typically around…June.  The is a natural connection between Us and our trees.

Therefore, it is only natural we get orgasmic during maple syrup season.  As the process of making the liquid gold requires fluctuating temps.  Warm days.  Cold nights.

So other than slapping tennis rackets on to our feet or struggling with sticks to go…cross country…we tap trees.  Walking along in snow drifts that have gained 10 pounds of water weight.  Walking around putting holes in trees.  Only to watch maple drip like a slow, leaking, kitchen faucet."Look at the hayseed! He's trying to milk a tree!

It is only with this logic and fanfare… I feel obliged to share some important Maple facts:

-We first learned the talent of tapping Maple trees from Native Americans.  Go figure, Native Americans, have taught us everything we need to know about the outdoors.  WE did not start to commercialize the product until the 1660’s.

-Maple Syrup is 100% natural

-Maple Syrup provides an antioxidant value equal to broccoli

-Maple Syrup offers more than 100% of the daily allowance of manganese, 37% of riboflavin, 18% of zinc(zinc reduces the risk of heart disease)

-Maple Syrup reduces the risk of heart disease

-Maple Syrup has no fatImage result for humorous things to do with maple syrup

-Maple Syrup as a, sweetener, typically has fewer calories

In New Hampsha we make…Maple Martinis, in which to wash down our Maple Stir Fry.  After a relaxing night at the ‘all you can eat’ buffet down at Polly’s Pancake Parlor: Typically we go home and light a maple incense, while taking a Maple bubble bath and scrubbing down with a Maple bar of soap.

Snow white it’s Blue

So snow white it's blue
So snow white it’s blue

Along the route of…

Old is new

Slate to tin roofs.

You can see dusky corn rows

and,

into the heart of tomorrow.

All the while,

snow white sorrow

Pretentious and antiquated and ancient and misspoken.

Glimpses of a past paid for in tokens.

Granite blue and red with sunset morale.

So snow white it's blue
So snow white it’s blue

Deserted fields with one lone buxom cow.

Gingerbread, maple and fire sift the air.

It would seem the newest of England does not care.

A postal box envisioned by primitive design.

Last stop…missing the sign.

Wildlife encounters and other oblique…traveling shows

Mountains upon mountains of nowhere to go.

Snow white would only be fit the beguiled few

“Poetry is what gets lost in translation.”  ― Robert Frost
“Poetry is what gets lost in translation.”
― Robert Frost

A narrow state of mind…nothing new.

Grandpa’s Deere up on wooden blocks.

Too many, too many’s, pawned at the shop.

Looks like Poe’s the raven.

Feels like Frost’s haven.

Fierce farmland, as far as, the vulture flies

Windchill’s torment a native daughter’s third eye.

Styrofoam sounds like dripping mountain dews.

Underneath, snow white so blue.

Piney sap.

So snow white it's blue
So snow white it’s blue

A Mother’s milk and Mother’s mishap.

Skin stretched out over a dimming fall

Stoned in granite over it all.

Scenic one leading to one more.

Agape, another English styled country store.

Clothes lines made up of crippled shaker chairs.

Bumper-ed Harley’s loosing their flare.

So snow white it's blue
So snow white it’s blue

It is a granite state of mind…

Earthen embryo by design…