The Frost Place
If you don’t like solitude, don’t be a writer. But even if you like solitude, you should like people because they’re people and you need something to write about. Plenty of people stop to see the museum in the house, shop in the barn, or walk the newly restored poetry trail. They’ll be sure to sit on your front porch describing the mountains in adjectives even you wouldn’t use: beautiful, stunning, marvelous, gorgeous, majestic, something else. And they’ll say how inspiring it must be to write here. Then, a woman will read the sign out front, making a general announcement to all within earshot: “1 to 5 p.m. (except Tuesdays). At other times, if you walk the grounds, please respect the concentration of the resident poet living and working in this house.” And a man will answer: “There’s a what?” Woman: “A poet.” Man: “A poet?” Woman: (Raising the volume of her voice) “It says here, ‘please respect the concentration of the resident poet living and working in this ho
