Through the Reeds

One warm day last week, hubby and I went to one of the local parks for a walk. I spotted an old rotted stairway leading down to a rock dam. On one side of the dam, a thick stand of phragmites grew with a path beaten down by many feet. My curiosity got the better of me and I had to see where the path led. Would it end at the other side of the rock dam?

The phragmites were tall, making me feel short. A red-winged blackbird flew overhead, scolding me. I enjoyed the somewhat magical sensation of being hidden inside the reeds.

There are many analogies for walking along on an unknown path. For many writers, it is easy to equate  such a path to the process of writing a novel. You can't see very far ahead and you may not be sure where the next turn will lead, but it's that sense of adventure that makes writing so much fun.

Abruptly, I came to the end of my little sojourn. A broken down spillway blocked my progress. If I was more daring, I would have tried stepping over the mossy stones. But I'm not as spry as I used to be so I turned around and returned to the old stairway through my magical path. It was a short exploit, but delightful nevertheless.