Christine Johnson here today to talk about roads. That might not sound terribly exciting, but roads (and paths) are an oft-used metaphor for life's journey.
Long ago when I was in school, one of my favorite poems was Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.” I loved the imagery of the fork in the road and the choice of which path to take—well-trodden or less traveled. How easy to take the interstate expressway, yet by doing so we miss the treasures found on narrow byways.
Sometimes the road or path might seem frightening. Here I am hiking high above the road in Glacier National Park…and thinking that the road might have been the better option!
Back in the 1920s, there were no expressways. Most roads were dirt or gravel and heavily rutted. Car tires blew out frequently. Carrying spares was a necessity. I can’t recall the last time I checked my spare, least of all used it. Lumber states, like Michigan in its early years, sometimes paved roads with slabs of wood so wagons and buggies wouldn’t get stuck in the mud. Some of those survived into the twentieth century. I can imagine the teeth-chattering washboard effect of driving on slab wood. The hero and heroine in my upcoming release, Suitor by Design, end up on one of those old roads under the worst of circumstances.
I still enjoy a scenic road. I love the possibilities around each bend or at each fork. During this summer’s trip to Mt. Rainier National Park, we found this wood suspension bridge at Longmire. My husband and I walked across the bridge, which was only wide enough for one car to cross at a time.
What interesting byways have you found in your travels? Do you have a favorite drive or bridge? Which fork in the road did you choose, and where did it lead you?
Suitor by Design (LIH, October 2014)