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The Road I Travel

“The Road Not Taken”

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and sorry I could not travel both And be one traveller, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair, and having perhaps the better claim because it was grassy and wanted wear; though as for that, the passing there had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay in leaves no feet had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I — I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference.

(Robert Frost)

I have written before about the things I have seen in my travels. But today, something really struck me. My trip to work each day is just breathtakingly beautiful! I especially love turning on to Valley Camp Road as I head to Camp Joy El. What a treat to the eyes! Just a couple of weeks ago, I got to see bunch after bunch of lovely white flowers blooming on the banks as I turned on to Valley Camp Road. Memories came flooding back to me of when I was a little girl and we saw these little flowers blooming one day as I was traveling with my mom and dad and grandma. Grandma said, “Oh look! Dutchman’s breeches!” I thought that was a funny name for the pretty little white flowers. My dad pulled the car over and we got out to look. Sure enough, these little beauties look like a row of white pants hanging on a clothesline!  My mother, who carried a spade in the car for moments like these, dug up one or two of the plants to take home and transplant into her flowerbed. They still bloom there every Spring.

Just as the dutchman’s breeches were beginning to lose their luster, a new beauty appeared. I noticed them first closest to the creek that runs through that area. Clumps of dainty blue flowers dotted the creek bank and the surrounding areas. There were just enough dutchman’s breeches left to add to the loveliness. Virginia bluebells. Again, these flowers evoke a memory. When I was in high school, my best friend, Tammy and a fellow named Joe would go to James Buchanan High School every Saturday in the Spring to help run the greenhouse. One day, Joe brought with him a plant he wanted identified. Mr. Frick, the horticulture teacher who ran the greenhouse project told him to set the pot aside until he had a chance to look up the flower. Joe had put a popsicle stick tag in the pot labeled “Joe Fitz-unknown”. A short time after, my mom came to make her purchases at the greenhouse. She took one look at the pot and exclaimed, “Virginia bluebells!” The plant had been identified, and my mother ended up leaving with the potted treasure. She planted them, popsicle tag and all and each year there after (even to this day) we look for “Joe Fitz-unknown” to come up in our flower beds!

Very soon, there was a yellow flower added to the mix. Wild yellow mustard began blooming amongst the Virginia bluebells. This too evoked a memory of the field around my childhood home that would become a sea of yellow each Spring. The wind would blow through the blooms and it looked as though there were waves of yellow coming toward you as you looked across the land. I recall one field in particular close to my grandparent’s home that stayed awash with yellow blooms for several weeks each Spring. I knew when we got to the field of mustard, we were almost at Grandma’s house.

Another new white flower appeared just days after the mustard flowers began blooming. Star of Bethlehem flowers began to dot the banks adding to the bouquet of beauty. This time the memory these little flowers brought back was an amusing one. My parents had gotten several loads of fill dirt to create a more level area around our house. We spent hours moving dirt and getting it to be “just right”. Grass seed was planted several times, as the birds wouldn’t leave it alone. The Spring after we did all this work, we waited in anticipation to see if the grass had finally “taken”. Instead of a lush thick lawn full of green grass, we started to see thin green and white leaves protruding from the ground. Soon, there were spikes of white flowers everywhere! My mother was annoyed, but I was thrilled! These flowers were so easy to pick for big bouquets of flowers and mixed in with dandelions, looked quite beautiful to a little girl. “Star of Bethlehem flowers!” my mother sighed. “We’ll never get rid of all of these!” She spent many years pulling them out and tossing them away. She eventually gave up….it was a losing battle!

Today, to  my delight, I saw yet another splash of color on the banks of Valley Camp Road. Wild red columbine. I have always loved the various varieties of columbine, but find the wild red columbine is my favorite. It is the first to bloom every Spring and is more lacey and dainty than the propagated varieties I’ve purchased from greenhouses. I have some of this beautiful flower, again thanks to a sighting of this flower by my grandmother. We were driving around one Sunday afternoon over some mountain roads when she spotted it. Again, mom’s spade dug up some of the tender plants and found new homes in her flowerbed. She later gave me some for mine.

Now that we are heading into the month of May, I know I will soon see wild phlox blooming. I love to see this flower in it’s rainbow of colors. I don’t know yet if this flower will appear on Valley Camp Road, but it does bloom heavily on Filer Road which is close to me. So I will get to see the pink, blue, purple and white hues of this flower soon. When my hubby, David, realized I liked this wild flower too, he began to carry a spade with him so that he could dig up some of these for me! I now have some white and purple among the other flowers in my garden!

I just love arriving on Valley Camp Road each day. It is a blessing to my eyes and my memories. I can’t help but think of the verses from Matthew 6:28b-29 – “Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:  And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” I can’t help but think that there is nothing that man can make that is more beautiful than what God puts on His “canvas” of earth. I also thought of the Robert Frost poem…”Two roads diverged….” Valley Camp Road is not a “road less travelled” by any means, but I like to think of it as a little patch of heaven, untouched by man where God can express Himself and I want to always be able to see His handiwork no matter what road I choose.

♥Miriam