Saturday, December 18, 2010
A trace of snow
In summer and fall I walk this road regularly. Few vehicles ever pass and those only the Roundtop crew heading over to check on a pump or a well. So when I walk it, I have the mountain to myself. In snowy weather, I walk it less frequently, perhaps just 2-3 times over the winter. The valley holds the cold as close as a lover, and the paths are icy. The hours of daylight are short, too, which lessens the time to get in and out again before dark.
Even in this time, though, the road calls to me. That curve up ahead, where the road disappears into the forest, draws me like a magnet. How can anyone resist the call of a road that winds into the woods, with a hint of still-invisible wonders up ahead? Even though I know every curve and hollow, every rise and fall of that road, it still draws me in.