A Daily Journey

This morning I realized something.


I love going to school.


Not in the usual sense of the expression, but in the literal sense. Often I drag my feet, rather dreading the destination, but I never dislike the process of getting there. Winding and twisting on the back road makes for a delightful drive. When my sibs and I were small, we called it the Pretty Way, always begging mom "please take the Pretty Way home."


The drive is glorious in every season, at any time of day or night. My favorite is probably Autumn. And dusk, when the moon is full, makes the drive indescribable. This morning, though, was particularly splendid! It's magic can scarcely be captured in words, but I feel it deserves an attempt on my part, however humble, to record its charm.

I stepped outside at 7:30. The cold penetrated through my gloves, coat, scarf, sweater, and shirt, making me chill despite all efforts to the contrary. The grass was frosted over, and crunched as I walked across the lawn. It took nearly seven minutes to remove the frost-art off the windows and mirrors. I love the way the ice starts to curl as it is scraped.

When I was finally ready to leave, I encountered an immediate obstacle: the numerous pot holes, mud patches, and ice chunks between myself and the main road. It is a sort of game to avoid the rougher spots, and to remain at a speed sleepy enough to not offend certain neighbors' sensibilities.

The next section of the drive is probably the least interesting. Houses, yards, dogs, horses, fences, all of which I have seen a million times. But this familiarity makes it rather dear. There's the house where we picked up the kittens Davie and Dora.........Our former babysitter's sister got married and moved into that house.........a voice teacher lives there........ah, a certain arrogant young man lives there, and is annoyed that the noise of our roosters carries so far (malicious chuckle). Anyway, those are the small-town thoughts I would think, if I happened to think about these particular surroundings at all.


Then I reach Four Corners, pause a moment, then continue into something more sublime. Birches line both sides of the road. Every time I reach this part, I feel, if only for an instant, transported into the world of L. M. Montgomery. Roads and Cars disappear, and I am meandering along, book in hand, with a full skirt and Gibson-Girl hair.

Ah, well, reality overcomes me, and the car is still moving forward. There is a slight ascent, and I pass the driveway that leads to the House of Tragedy, then down the hill and over the railroad tracks. To the right, just for an instant, I catch a glimpse of the freeway bridge, parallel to my road for only a short way. I see cars and trucks........ almost frightening in their fast-paced uniformity.

I continue my own ramblings, delighting in the ever-changing direction, of this less taken path. The next bend travels up and around a steep hill. The area is thickly furnished with evergreens, and one one side, there is a drop off edge (always an abhorrence of mine). Once my car stopped working on the way up this particular hill. Fortunately, my guardian angel must have given the car a nice push, for it got over the top to a place where I could safely park.

At the bottom of the hill is an ugly grayish brick fence with a gate. Inside the gate, an alert Daisy scrutinizes the cars that pass. I don't really know if the dog's name is Daisy, but she looks like a Daisy I used to know, so that is what I call her. She has only chased my car three times. Mostly she just stands and grumbles.

Then I pass a sort of meadow. It has some shrubs, and a couple tree stumps. This morning, everything was covered in frost, and looked like an enchanted kingdom under a spell. A misty curtain hangs over the meadow in the mornings and evenings, and adds a proper touch of mystery.

The next part of the road is a very long descent, curving several times to the right and left. It is entertaining to see how far I can get without having to use any gas. Just for one moment, at the beginning of the descent, I can see the tiny town, the open lands further off, and the mountains even further in the distance. This view was beautiful this morning, when the sun was making the peaks glow orange, but the shadows remained purple. It is best at night, though, when the lights of the town contrast starkly with the surrounding wilderness.

Next I pass three horses by a fence. These three, tan, brown, and black, are nearly always there, with their head leaning over the fence, and their mouths moving as if in conversation. I usually laugh when I see them, and imagine the gossip they are joyfully dissecting.

Finally, the Grand Finale: I turn on to another road to the right, climb yet another ice-paved hill, turn a corner, and gasp with delight. Rising, straight ahead, is the Mountain in full splendor. Dressed seamlessly in white, its massive beauty is more awe-inspiring in real life than anything I could possibly conjure up in imagination.

I think the mornings and evenings I spend driving this road are some of my favorite times. The world seems so quiet and still, and I can be alone with my thoughts. Not alone in my thoughts of course, for I ponder over occurrences of the week, and think of many people and places. However, it also the quiet time that is so necessary to rejuvenate the spirit.

I shall miss these daily journeys.