I went out for the paper this morning; Main Street was closed because of a bike race that was being held.
As I slowly made my way down the tree lined street dotted with Victorian homes, bikers in day glow spandex whizzed by my car like so many little alien space-ships.
Traffic was diverted off onto a small side street that widened and became a semi paved country road.
I marveled over the seemingly endless farms, the tall stalks of corn like green skyscrapers everywhere, and the other fields populated by horses sleepily grazing in the gray morning haze. I've said it before, but Utopia can be such a calming and bucolic place, a state of mind if you will.
I continue down another road, and find that I am in a section of town that I have never been before, small white houses, all appear to be freshly white washed, surrounded by white picket fences. One of the houses has an insanely overgrown morning glory vine which seems to have overtaken a trellis in its yard; an explosion of blue flowers dots the lush green creeping greenery. A little on further up this road is a farmhouse that seems to have been taken over by an artisan of sorts. The front yard is filled with strange and bizarre statues in varying degrees of completion. I slow down to take a look and see, who I assume is, the artist coming out the front door. It’s an older woman, very Kate Hepburn in her appearance. I roll my window down and ask her about her work. She look’s at me, rather sternly, and then says, “Come back with your check book, you’ll make me a wealthy woman, and I’ll make a friend of the arts!” She threw her head back and laughed and then went on with her business.
Moving on, I finally come to the end of the detour, back into civilization, as it where, and make my way to the store to get my paper.
When I finish up and head back, I begin to think to myself that life is like unexplored roads, you never know where it will lead you to.
That’s true not only for Utopia, but any neck of the woods.