The Road Traveled

The car bumps along the county road like it knows the way without me; and I look. Look at the creativity and industriousness of the people who live in the houses. They have been very busy, planting trees and flowers and tropical plants, banana trees, hanging ferns on the deck, stacking rocks, placing chairs and gnomes and flamingos in the just right spots. But, sometimes there's a renegade in the neighborhood, or perhaps just a forgotten pile of once useful equipment left to rust and become a gigantic flowerpot for vines and blossoms. Undaunted by lawn mowers, weed eaters and posing as a windshield, engine and front of that once proud workhorse of the farm or junk business.  It makes me laugh.