We are creatures of habit. Even the most adventurous of souls will find themselves having a routine of some sort whether it’s just a morning cup of coffee or in the way a day is lain out.
A few days ago as I walked the familiar path from house to barn I again noticed the shortened grass already worn thinner by our daily treks. We have a circle drive that we could walk, but the path through the yard is shorter so that’s the one we take. It’s not pretty: especially after the spring rains. In the winter we even clear it with a shovel or snow plow. Yep, right through the yard.
My thoughts wandered from this path to the one I walked from house to barn as a child at my grandparents. The farm too has a circle drive that my grandparents, dad, and uncle didn’t want to walk completely around either. By the time I came along and was old enough to toddle behind Grandpa to the barn the path was already well worn. There was no mistaking the dirt line running from one drive, under an apple tree, to the next drive, under a scraggly evergreen, and then to the barn. I could probably still walk it with my eyes closed to this day.
I cannot explain to anyone why my thoughts travel as they do. Often backward, then forward again landing with some connection to current day. What lessons have I taken, or could I take, from a barn path?
One of my favorite poems is Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken.
Over the past couple of days each time I’ve covered the distance from the house to barn and back again I’ve considered places well worn versus life’s journeys into the unknown. I daresay that farm life can be a twist of both.
There are many daily constants. Before we eat our own breakfasts the animals get theirs. From cattle to horses, chickens and cats, all need water and food. Seasonally, routines of planting and harvesting mix with all of the maintenance in between. At times-like when you just want a day off, or the weather’s bad and the path to the barn looks tedious, you wish you could walk down Frost’s road of untouched undergrowth to a place of mystery and adventure from which you may wish to never return. It’s about that time when you realize you just have to pull on those boots and walk the known path anyway. I kinda felt this way when I began to walk this mental trail the other day. When I heard the soft mew of new kittens I was rewarded with the thought that surprises do await even in the steady known. Sometimes it’s new life and other times it’s a downed fence with the cows on the wrong side.
To be honest I’m about halfway through an average life expectancy now so when I close my eyes and revisit my trails I question which ones will make the difference. The well worn or the less traveled? In the end my guess is the one that has been walked a million times over by friends and family members at all stages of life. The one filled with memories, good and bad. The one I’ve traveled alone with tears in my eyes and prayers on my lips. It’s the path of home and constants that will be the most important to me.
creatingalovelyhome 