An Old Dirt Road
Most paved roads lead to trouble, Dirt Roads more likely lead to a fishing creek or a swimming hole." – Paul Harvey
When I take off on country backroads it’s rare for me to know where I am going. I just go. I reckon I will know when I get there and usually I do.
Sometimes the music is cranked up loud and sometimes it’s quiet all around me – mostly because the old truck radio is seriously haunted and works when it feels like it or when I hit enough bumps in the road. Strangely enough, I’m okay with that.
I used to pass by really cool looking roads and kick myself later for not stopping to check things out. Somewhere along the line I blinked and realized I had passed by far too many things in my life and I began driving slower and stopping often.
Yeah, I am that little old lady driving 20 mph down the road that makes you insane. In my defense, I only do it out in the country and I do pull over (to let folks go) when I see someone behind me.
Something happens when I see a curvy little dirt road. I have this overwhelming need to see where it leads. If it is muddy and filled with massive ruts, it doesn’t take me long to figure out that something really cool is nearby and I am about to find out…
This particular day I was far enough out of town to realize this was not somewhere I wanted to get stuck so I parked and walked in. It could be I was just going to find a dry creek bed and a local dumping ground but at least I would know.
And then I saw it.
A little bit of heaven decided to make an appearance in my day.
I discovered a hidden section of Cibolo Creek.
I guess this was my destination today.