As I got much closer to home, the scenery changed drastically. This area also used to be lush with trees and ferns but was sold to Duarte Vineyards. Most of the trees were cut down and turned into poles (which mark the rows of the grapes) with a loud, grinding machine that ran practically 18 hours a day. If the neighbors would not have complained about the noise factor, I'm sure they would have run that machine 24 hours per day. They took our trees AND our quiet for most of that summer. There is now a gorgeous view of mountains that we could not see before but we lost the beauty of the trees. How do you justify losing one for the other? My husband says that you can't stop progress--that people change and so does life. I guess that's true. You give up something but you might get something better to fill the void. It's the road we choose to travel that matters.
Shortly, I arrived at the top of my road, where the snowflakes were starting to really become thick and steady. I opened my window and pointed my camera at the falling snow as it drifted ever-so-softly to the ground. I followed the road to the end where there was a coil of smoke rising out of the chimney and a fire inside the house waiting for me. Home! "...Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
Part of "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost