was the feeling last night , in thinking about the restrictions of travelling to work. In deciding to follow one route due to severe delays because of renewing roundabout designs, it feels restrictive about options to vary the way to work.
This morning I set out from the house , it was wet and grey, not raining, clear and the colour of the leaves still able to shine through. However leaving the village and heading towards the main road and towards the river I am driving then into fog. The roadside trees and hedges loom out and only reveal the colour when close.
Of course, the route is the same. The same old way, again
But it is another day.
The route may be the same but the conditions are not.
Every day is its own.
That route seems to be the same but is not.
Nothing is exactly a repeat
Keeping this in mind, reminding myself of this is refreshing.
I find it hopeful.
on setting off from home. But it is bright. Bright enough for the car’s lights not to come on automatically. But the lights are needed if not to help me see but to help me be seen. I turned them on.
Before setting out i took out the bag of logs from the boot of the car and put them by the fireplace. It required a bit of effort to lift it and carry it to the house. With the later ‘effort’ of thinking about turning on the car lights how much this supply of energy is instant. Immediate effortless. Taken for granted. How misguided is that?
My traffic plans have recently altered as the roundabout up dates have affected the west and north side of the ring road. I don’t usually listen to the traffic reports but this morning there was the announcement that caught my attention . The police had closed a road and although the road sign said road closed it was in fact open and very few cars were in that direction yet. Great. An opportunity to try again the former routine.
But some months had passed. How could I have been thinking things would be the same ? Hardly any other cars but the trees have changed entirely since I last took that route. Autumn is creeping along the boughs . The road dips in and out of obscurity playing with the fog. Then the bollards restricting the lane size and position at roundabouts . It was not a good move to think I could travel this way in exactly the same familiar pattern of routine.
Another opportunity to reconsider the taking for granted ness of things .