The Path Less Taken
This wasn’t my planned destination. I intended to go on my usual short walk down the road that leads to a nature preserve near my house. It’s a beautiful little stroll, shaded by old oak trees that appear oblivious to the nearby suburban encroachment and I try to mimic their stoic detachment from the world (but don’t often succeed). It’s why I like to take it so often. Just a short walk from my house and I feel like I’m out in the middle of nature.
After about a 1/3 of a mile there is a gate that blocks the road affixed with a stern “No Trespassing” sign. I respect the sign because, after all, it’s their property and they have a right to restrict access, but I always feel compelled to stick my foot under the gate and touch the road on the other side. Immature? Yes, but at my age, that’s what we call, sticking it to the man. And if you think that’s immature for me, you should talk to my wife. She has stories. After this powerful act of sedition settles down, I stroll back up the road, refreshed and ready to rejoin my suburban utopia.
Does one foot count as trespassing?
But this day I was feeling a little more energetic so I set my sights on the water tower that looms over my neighborhood. In ancient days, the people would place their temples on the highest hills as a visual reminder of what should be most important in their lives. Here in Southern California, it’s where we put our water, which is keeping with that ancient tradition. We all gaze up at the Temple of Green Lawns, worshipping the God of Hydration. Beautiful clouds were gathering and I thought I could get some good photographs from that elevated vantage point, and I was right, it was beautiful.
Check out these clouds!
I spent some time there, enjoying the vista and then I glanced down the fire road that runs across the hills to another development about a mile or so away. I used to hike this every day but it had been a while and it was beckoning me. I thought I could get some good pics there, but I hesitated because I hadn’t told my wife that I was heading this way and she gets concerned about me hiking alone. I joke that she can just use the Find My Friends app to let the authorities know where to find my body, but I get the feeling that’s not helpful (I’m pretty intuitive about things like that). I couldn’t ignore the siren call so I set off down the trail.
The siren call
I didn’t get very far down that road before I saw a side trail veer to the right. I hesitated because I knew I would lose cell service in that direction (thus negating my wife’s ability to identify the location of my body), but then I saw a couple heading my direction from the main path which settled my conundrum. Coronavirus has just given me a useful excuse for my intrinsic anti-social behavior on hikes. I love to commune with God and nature, but people? Not so much.
The path less taken.
The path took me through a small meadow and as I emerged from a stand of oak trees, I rediscovered the little pond pictured at the top of this page. I’ve been here before, but it’s been a while and I forgot it was here. I lingered for a while, breathed in the crisp cool air, listened to the melodious symphony of unseen birds, and drank in the presence of a God who sustains it all. Not exactly a Walden level experience, but it was a refreshing respite, and I left invigorated by the experience. It’s not always wise to take the less trodden path, but on this fine day it was exactly what I needed.
