Sweet, Sweet Traffic

Yesterday I loved traffic.

I loved it so much.

Well, not at first.

I'm working a different schedule this week, and on Monday I realized that my 50 minute commute (each way) becomes a one hour and thirty-five minute commute (each way).  The drive home is North, thus I sat in crawling or stopped traffic with the sinking sun pouring in on me from the West.  At 80 degrees, by the time I got home Monday night I was fried.  Literally. it was a kinda don't-mess-with-mom night. I just wanted quiet.

As well, the little guy I nanny for is attending a camp this week that is basically under the Golden Gate Bridge. So it's two trips (drop off and pick up) a day.  I'm on the road a total of 4 hours each day this week. And that is without traffic.

I think that basically sets up this scene: that yesterday, when I hit the freeway at 6 pm, and it was already bumper to bumper, I cursed it, gripped the steering wheel and made a new plan. Quick.  I decided to take the next exit, drive down to the bay and sit and knit fo an hour or so until the road was clear.

As I drove, round and round a curvy forested road, I got close to the water and spotted a tiny little road and turned onto it.  It wound around a bit, lazily, and then became a funky, bumpy little dirt road with deep potholes. I had to maneuver all over the place. 

I found myself in a beautiful spot at the edge of the wetlands. 

I found a poetic piece of heaven. 

And there I parked.

 

 

It was as quiet as could be and the dragonflies and swallows flew about.  I was truly able to relax into the beautiful summer evening.  The temperature was perfect, there with a slight breeze.  I immediately felt really happy.  It was a solitary place.  The back end of what appeared to be a rundown, deserted old boat dock and storage.  I felt at peace and alone.  I sat on the hood of my car and knitted for awhile. I talked to the dragonfly that came close. Yeah, I guess I was a nutcase. But a recovering nutcase, mind you.

 

And then I decided to take my camera and go exploring.  Old tires.  A deer.  A lost shoe.

 

 

 

Next to the dock with the old shoe I found a brilliant blooming cactus and an old gas pump hiding behind some golden, waving grass.

 

 

I realized that someone probably comes out here because there were trash cans and kayaks. But the air was as still as a whisper.

 

 

After a fair amount of time I heard some men laughing in the distance.  I head toward the sound, and there tucked secretly away was Bucks.  A little old bar attached to a little old house.  A handful of friendly men sharing stories, nursing beers and laughing.  The laughter was the best part.  They spotted me and offered me a cold beer. 

 

I declined, but I did hang around and chat and used the restroom.  When Buck gave me the key he apologized and said he hadn't checked the ladies room today and that he hoped it was OK.  Ha!  I don't think he's checked the ladies' room this year and maybe not even last.  But I'm not much of a fancy girl.  I didn't care, I was just so grateful to find one.

 

The guys took turns sharing little secret bits of the history of the area with me.  Secrets I promised to keep.  But secrets that left me with information that calls me back for more.  Like the little shack where the very old Asian couple has lived for decades.  A place where they serve crab sandwiches and beers for two bucks on Friday nights.  Or the old rusted automobile yard with relics from the 40's...

Like I said, sweet, sweet traffic.  Thank you for making me stop and enjoy...crazy enjoy...the end of my workday!

 

 

 

Comments

[Tanya-from (near) Chicago]

I loved reading this post. Thank you for sharing. Now I want to take a detour on my next drive home.

[bkj]

What a wonderful gift. The road less traveled. bkj

[Toni]

I loved this post too! What a great spontaneous adventure! I love your writings, nice to read you back in the groove :))

[karen]

This was so fun to read Marianne. Thanks for sharing your spontaneous stop on the way home. How great to happen upon that group of men having fun and telling stories. The pictures were so pretty as well.

[naomi dagen bloom]

Can always count on you for lemonade out of lemons--thanks for another observant journey.

Btw, your question about Skype and how little kids respond: I dunno. Much of the time with Roxie is a chance to talk with our son, her father, sometimes her mother. Showing kids things of your own, or ones that might amuse, sometimes works.

Look at it this way, Marianne: electronics are their world; I hope they're more comfortable in it than the grandparents!

[Lisa]

Your angels are DEFINITELY with you. ;)