We have entered a new year, but in many ways it feels as if we haven’t quite left the last one. The pandemic still has us spending most of our time keeping a distance, but in that I have found that the solitude has sparked my creative spirit. This month we are looking forward to our new brand relaunch that we spent all of 2020 working to put together. It is a celebration of the artistry that we create as well as process that brings it all to fruition.

Additionally, we had a lovely wedding that was a year in the making. A new feature on Magnolia Rouge of our piece “The Golden Age,” and we will be producing a new editorial during the last week of the month with Marni Wishart. All the while, making the time to enjoy the cool weather of the season and the crunch beneath our feet of fallen leaves and acorns that are the corner stone of a Texas winter.

While we are not as still as we would prefer to be during this time, as we enter this quieter period I am reminded of the poem by Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” When I was in grammar school, we sang this in girl’s choir during the winter production and it has always stayed with me. (30 years later.)

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.