One summer about five years ago, the council changed the layout of paths in my local park. Perhaps cowed by the fact that they had been so properly laid out and surfaced, we kept to the new paths and changed our normal routes through to town. All of us that is but the daffodils who appeared the following spring… reminding us of the lost path and that there are always other ways to go. Cheery little rebels.
They are a delight to see every March:
And of course it puts me in mind of Robert Frost’s poem, The Road Not Taken. Here he is reading it:
And you can read the text here.
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