I had allotted an hour for the journey, but I because I analyzed a map beforehand, the ride only took 30 minutes! There were two potential routes, but I needed to make haste there, so I opted for the most direct one. I took my favorite trail most of the way, and merged onto a major street for the final blocks. I don't particularly enjoy an auto crowded street. I get frustrated by the way drivers don't share the road. My trust issues go into full swing, and I get angry easily at how they simply do not realize that I have no shell to protect me.
In any case, as I made my way past the final trail exit (from the road), I saw the dirt and gravel road I could have taken might be better for the journey back home. I was particularly interested in finding out if it would take longer, and I was inspired by the fact that there wouldn't be any cars. I made a mental note to turn onto it on the way home.
After picking up THE most succulent strawberries, blueberries, and a sweet and spicy pepper jelly at the market, I set out for home. I turned onto the dirt road that had beckoned earlier, and quickly realized I was in for a treat. As I peddaled my bicycle on the shady, tree lined, creek path, it reminded me of when I was a girl pretending my bike was a horse. On this day, I pretended I was in a wagon, and I had picked up groceries from town, and I was heading home. I think my imagination was working overtime because of the jostle of the gravel road.
It felt like I had gone back in time, imagining how it might have been taking a horse and wagon to town. I felt that if I did have a horse today, this might actually be someplace I could ride it. All my life I've wanted a horse, but nowadays the bike seems like a better fit, and as soon as I rounded the turn that brought me to the main trail towards home, I was back in the real world. I also noticed that this route was taking twice as long, and on the final leg of the gravel road, I felt a little like Robert Frost when he wrote, "I doubted it I would ever come back." At least, not on the gravel trail.
This morning, I my household family members weren't disappointed when they awoke to the scent of freshly baked blueberry muffins in the kitchen, nor was I. I am also acutely aware that Saturday morning is THE best day for the farmers market for so many reasons. As I bite into the warm berry goodness, I realize that blueberries are one of natures delicacies. While I doubt I will take that gravel road again, I will definitely return to the farmers market many times - if only for the berries alone.
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