Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Up the Garden Path

The metaphors for the meaning of a path are obvious and have been explored often so I will not insult our collective intelligence by revisiting any of those ideas. I would like to just talk about pathways at face. A crooked brick path. A twisting worn dirt path covered with leaves. Concrete paths snaking along the back sides of planned communities in southern California. The wooden plank pathways of Fire Island. The beach paths, the bike paths, the short cut paths leading from one neighbor to the next. And its not just the paths, its the garden walls, the creeping vines, the stubby gnarled roots poking through the earth, the high hedges, or the wall of ancient lilac bushes that run along the sides, helping to shape that path. To give it a form. I think for me the greatest thing about a path is that no matter what path I am on even if I have been on it before - it makes me feel like an explorer and is certainly the most charming way of getting from point A to point B.

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