The Darkest Evening of The Year

The Winter Solstice always reminds me of two people, one you probably know, Robert Frost, and another you may not, David Taylor.

Dave Taylor was the long-time Director of Exhibits at the Pacific Science Center. David was always filled with good humor and great ideas, and he was always willing to share with colleagues. One small legacy left behind is Dave Taylor's collection of museum and exhibit photos from his travels, still hosted on the Pacific Science Center's servers.

I was lucky enough to receive David's annual "Winter Solstice card" for many years before he passed away. David's card always reminded us about another year passing and the promise of the new year upon us. These seem like "dark evenings" for the economy and the museum business, but we do all have "promises to keep" as well.

And with that, I leave you with the word's of Mr. Frost:

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.