So, there we were by the riverside, enjoying a springlike day in early December, me with my new portrait lens … Kaity with her favorite “does everything” lens, sitting on the steps trying to find something to shoot, something that might make an interesting picture.

Two paths diverge ... which one would you take?

Two paths diverge … which one would you take?

And I found things to shoot. Not my most epic photography, but pretty pictures. I saw across the street an actual double path, one paved, one dirt that split into two … and wondered which I would take.  I decided that it would depend on whether I was afoot or traveling in a powered vehicle. Vehicle, go paved. Feet? Go dirt. Bet you wind up in the same place anyhow. Because that’s the way life goes. You think you’re taking a different road and thus you are going to wind up in a new place, but actually, you’re merely taking a detour and you will end up in exactly the same place. Karma is.

Right now, my life is a really bad daytime soap opera. It is so bad it is really funny. A few days ago, I was ready to cry. Now, I feel like howling with laughter. At a certain point, the ridiculousness exceeds the drama and you might as well laugh because it’s too stupid to be tragic.

Millville Steeple

Secretly, Mel Brooks is writing my life. Or someone like him, anyhow. Whoever it is, I sure do wish they’d let me read the script before I need to play my role. Life, unlike soap operas, doesn’t work that way.

Shadows on a path

Maybe that explains, in part, my obsession with pictures of paths. I’ve been taking pictures of paths through woods, along cliffs, along shorelines my whole life.

River reflections

I have yet to find the perfect path either as a photograph or as a direction. Maybe there isn’t any such thing. Maybe all paths are inherently imperfect. Probably they are supposed to be. Nobody said it was going to be easy, but I didn’t think it would be quite so funny.

Although there are many paths we didn’t take all of us wonder where those untaken paths would have led, I’m willing to bet I’d have inevitably wound up right where I am.

Call it Karma. Destiny. Fate. Doesn’t matter. It just means that you can run, but you cannot hide.