Drving Down the Turnpike of Life

My trip back and forth on the turnpike this week was quite different from my October trip. The undergrowth of the woods was visible now. The mountains, barren and bronze from the fallen leaves on the ground, were punctuated by spikes of evergreens.

Last year I wrote about the woods this time of year. I'm still thinking about that - about how I could see "into" the woods as I drove along.

The woods in late autumn are like a woman in the late autumn of her life. The glorious leaves are gone, but you can see deeply into her - see the comforts of her, the mounds of soft earth - see the hardness of her, the ragged rocks and sudden ledges. At this age, a woman shows herself as she truly is.

I have my soft earthy mounds and my ragged rocks. I still dream of lost loves and lost lives. But I snuggle into my life now, content for the most part, happy with the person I am.

I am a crone - the leaves have fallen and I will never again see spring. But there are still spikes of evergreen to be had. And I am pleased with that.

Travel is educating, even if it's only back and forth on the Pennsylvania Turnpike.