It was indeed a beautiful day, although I was only really able to enjoy the latter part of it, commonly known as "evening" as I have (of course) a job now.

After a dinner with a friend, I started to head home, but it was too early for the sun to have set and too late for me to bother calling work to see if maybe they needed me to come in afterall. There are those times like that, and when there's half a tank of gas in your car, I guess that seems like a good enough excuse to not head home quite yet.

There's this road, off of my road—past the barn where my sister used to ride and started to teach me until allergies (or fear) got the better of me—it's all bumpy and windy and in the middle of a large tract of land that Digital once owned but never developed. And there are lots of large, shady trees and very few people and no pavement after a point. I learned to drive on this road—or at least, the first few times I drove, this is where my parents took me. I'm not sure how much experience you really learn driving on an empty road. Some, I suppose.

I drove past my house and continued on, turned off onto the long and windy road—windows down, music off, hand out the window to catch a breeze. The speed limit says 30, but I probably did 15 much of the way. It seemed disrespectful to kick up too much dust in such a quiet place.

I had a long, bad weekend that really didn't feel much like a weekend at all. I wanted something peaceful.

I guess if you drive so slowly, young deer don't notice you until you're right up by them. And they'll pause for a moment, before turning and darting off in that bouncing sort of way they have. And that's worth a smile, even if that more cynnical side is muttering about development of land and displaced wildlife running in dangerous places.

The birds sang and for a few minutes, I actually felt calm and ok with things, not even in denial about things, or angry, just ok, and that was a very nice place to be.

And then, like that needle running off the record, a golf cart darted on and off the road—reminding me that oh yes, thinly veiled behind the trees there is grass cut unnaturally short and middle aged men who paid more than I'll make in a day to tap a ball into a hole. Development, I mutter, like I have always been some sort of tree-hugging hippie when I know I crave asphalt, cement and high rise buildings and sidewalks with cracks in them to measure your pace.

I felt sort of robbed of my moment, but the road was coming out on the other side. Still, I thought maybe I could reclaim it, get back to that place, if I just turned around and drove the other way on the road (which is towards home anyhow). Except in the moments before I was able to pull out and U-turn back, a giant black, disgusting SUV came along down the road, nearly driving into me in the process. And immediately after I managed the turn a white pickup came along. I was forced to drive like a normal person, near the speed limit and without stopping for deer or other wildlife. (Not that deer or other wildlife are present when a thundering soccer mom in her gas guzzling (yet fashionable) alternative to a minivan comes along.)

But I suppose I should've known better than to try and recreate a moment anyhow.

On the ride back, I could see over to the side with the golf course more clearly, and it was harder to ignore. There are several golf courses being built or just built nearby here just now and though I suppose it's not the worst use of land (it is green and all, right?) I just can't help but think it seems a silly thing when you can't build woods again. Not like they were, anyway. (But then again, I do not play golf. I tried to watch The Legend of Bagger Vance on video, but I really just didn't feel it. I have no patience for sports (games?) that seem tedious, or really most sports at all. Perhaps I ought to not whine so much.)

But anyway. It was beautiful out there—for a moment.

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Replies: 5

Posted by Z @ 06/25/2001 09:25 PM EST

Every day during the school year, I would walk home down our winding road under the trees that lean over our road and look out at the field with maybe some deer, lots of geese, maybe a coyote and realize how beautiful it is. And I know exactly what you mean.
P.S. I hate the SUVs too.

Posted by Steph @ 06/28/2001 12:23 AM EST

When you're back in Philadelphia, check out Fairmount Part -- especially the Wissahickon Creek area. Great places for hiking, and most of the time you're the only one there.

Posted by Brendan @ 06/29/2001 06:47 PM EST

that post i just posted a few days ago looks so dumb

Posted by steph @ 06/30/2001 06:32 PM EST

I liked your comment from the 28th steph. I knew exactly where you and Caroline were coming from. :)

Posted by liz @ 07/01/2001 10:53 PM EST