This weekend I have this. ~
There are other changes in my village. A block from my house they have closed a road because the bridge needs replacing and that's not going to happen with municipal cutbacks. This was upsetting to all of us, not the least of all the farmers who used that road to access the highway from their homes and move their equipment from field to field. We argued and we lost.
What happens when something has lost it's purpose? Waste is a very bad word to country folks. Without any discussion, committees or architect plans, the road has become a public park. Even with the grey muddiness of spring, a walk down the road has you passing cyclists, leash free dog walkers and parents strolling with their kids.
Anyone can pick the hickory nuts. ~
It's a safe place to ride all terrain vehicles. ~
Generations of courting couples met at the creek and carved their initials in the bridge. I know my brother and his sweetheart did in the 80's. It must have brought luck as they are still married today. ~
A while back, I wrote about my daughters playing Pooh sticks from this bridge, twenty-five years ago, and posted this picture of them. ~
When I was there last week, I watched two neighbour girls playing the same game.
I stood and watched the creek water pass by. ~
I thought of how resistant I am to change. I realized that the things that really matter flow on through the generations and are unaffected by most of the things that upset us on a daily basis.
Some change can actually turn out to be a good thing! Once we get used to it, that is!