Any Road I Take

Here I am, a little slow, already a week after that February 14^th snow, and now it seems that spring is upon us. And it felt like spring that day too. The snow was thick, heavy and wet, and the air was cool not cold. The snow would soon be gone, but while it was here, I wanted to get out in a world of white.

I thought I would go to the Morse Mill River Access. I had never been there in the snow, but the snow-slushed gravel road put me off, and I passed the entrance and kept driving on Highway C, and so fate made the first decision on my little road trip.

I often do that, let circumstances direct my path. I know the discovery and the adventure of it are worth much more than any particular destination. And when I have some time and nowhere else to be I am pleased to trust that God will get me where he wants me.

So along the fields and rural acres between the hills I cruised till C met Y in a place called Ware. I knew that Brown’s Ford was not far from there, a river access I had not taken photos of before, so I turned down that road and rode on, and on a whim cut a curving right on a side road and up a mountain.

It was a beautiful digression. The road was lined with pines. I stopped, got out of my car and walked along the ridge looking down to the valley below. The snow was rolled out like a white blanket covering the hills and filling the hollow.

And at the crest of the hill, there stood a small cabin looking a little worse for wear, and maybe even abandoned, or was it just held at arm’s length  for moments stolen from an everyday world, too few moments.

Under the overhang a sign hailed it "Haven."

And so was the morning full of snow pictures, and I got back in my car to see where else the road would take me, when for a moment, I had a doubt. I wondered what I was doing on a Tuesday morning out taking snow pictures when I probably should be home looking for a job...

Suddenly I felt empty, thought perhaps I was fooling myself. The sky grew greyer, the air colder, the world more like a dismal winter. I looked up again at the snow-filled woods.

There, standing at the roadside was a coyote, winter silver, calm and cool. It casually walked across the street, turned, looked at me, and walked off into the woods.

I knew then I was where I was supposed to be.

I’d say the rest of the day was pretty anticlimactic, but it wasn’t. The world grew brighter again. I felt purpose and promise and I knew that whatever road I took there would be a reason, something beautiful, something to be learned and accomplished.   

All I had to do was believe.