On the Road Less Traveled


This morning we are taking a different path. We follow the autumn mist in search of Puff- the magic dragon. Surely he is frolicking somewhere nearby. The red bench! The crows are flying overhead calling us to follow them to the edge of the wood to the red bench. Honah Lee awaits! We run ahead to read the yellow sign.On the Road Less Traveled


“This way to the red bench,” it says. We have never before approached our lovely red bench by this road. But we are in no hurry. There is always time to sing an aria or two along the way or stop and go fishing. And there is always time for noticing and wondering…


Maybe, because, maybe, because,


The entrance to the little cove where the red bench is is obscured by a pile of cut branches and I pass it altogether, scratching my head in bewilderment as I realize I’ve gone too far. We all work together to free the entrance and then cross the threshold. Finally we can relax and enjoy our snack. We are hungry. Grapes are gobbled up and traded for valuable fish crackers. Leftover crumbs scattered for the birds.


Refreshed and renewed, we continue on our way. Following the sound of the farmer’s chain saw, which we imagine to be the fiery roar of a dragon.


We cross yet another threshold: the place where the light and the shade meet marking the entrance to the forest. Rather than take the jungle path which we know well, we decide to walk the whole length of the farmer’s field where it butts up against the forest. Up ahead a gorgeous maple sends fall flames up into the blue sky. We peek through the orange glowing branches only to see our fire pit ringed by tree stump seats. It seems just perfect that the brightest tree in the forest is marking our special place. It has been that way all along… We just never saw it from this angle before.


Finally we spy a spider, sitting pretty, smack dab in the center of her perfect glistening web. Delight leads to curiosity which leads to poking at the web with a stick until the entire web comes crashing down and the devastated spider curls up into a tiny still ball. We can scarcely keep track of her in the grass. All eyes widen and we collectively gasp, “no!” And then the tears come.Tears of remorse. But the words, “I’m sorry, little spider.” do not come, can not come today. The best we can do today is to turn around and blow a kiss and let the wind carry it and whisper our apology to the spider. It’s okay, we are learning.

And then there were the cows we met along the way, this new never-before explored way. Five people, five cows, each one naturally drawn to his or her counterpart.


I am liking a lovely young brown cow with a perfect star upon his brow. How now brown cow? Others are smitten with the three black ones, bold and curious – licking our salty hands with their enormous black tongues.


And there is the shy brown and white youngster as delicious and creamy as my morning cappuccino. The five cows follow us along the fence to the corner where the field meets the path. They seem to call their friends who come scampering and skidding over the top of the knoll. If a dragon can frolic in the autumn mist, why not a cow? Suddenly there were 11 or 12 or 16 or 15 or maybe…

maybe… because…

Maybe because today we took a brand new path, and it did, indeed, make all the difference. And the pirates and the princesses and the wild horses galloped back to the farm with joyful abandon, never to be caught, never to be broken.


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