Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Our Driveway

Our driveway is a great friend-filter. There are times when we know that the people visiting us, must have really wanted to see us.

In the best of conditions, it's steep and narrow. In the worst, it's traversed by miniature versions of the Grand Canyon or it takes on the form of a down-hill skating rink.

There are times when incident-free passage becomes so questionable that  Iris and I leave our cars at the bottom of the steepest section that starts about halfway up and walk the remaining quarter mile to the our house at the top. Walking at night, it can get so dark that you can't see your hand in front of your face. You have to sense with your feet where you are on the roadway. If you've lived in the suburbs or in the city, you come to realize that it never actually gets dark there.

There are times when passage has indeed resulted in incident. Iris, Mark K, Scott and the home inspector each managed to slide backwards down the driveway while heading up to the house, there cars coming to rest in pretty much the same place just off to the side.

Our driveway loves snow and snow loves it. They cling to one-another like honey on molasses. When the snow falls, you  have to plow every hour or so just to make sure that the icy love affair doesn't turn into one of those infatuations where there's no room for anyone else.

Our driveway is scenic. Over the half-mile from the road to the house, it climbs along a ridge-line that rises steeply to the left, the road dropping precipitously to the right. The rising and falling slopes are covered with wild grasses to prevent erosion. However, in late summer and early autumn, they're dense with yellow coneflower and evening primrose and white aster. As it rises, the grasses and wildflowers are displaced by dense thickets of trees. Halfway up, it veers left into the trees, zigzagging the remaining distance to the top.

Our driveway lives in two states and three towns. The steepest part is bisected by the Massachusetts/New York border. On your way from the road to our house in South Egremont Mass, you pass through both Copake and Hillsdale New York. If you drive all the way to the top, while you're in the house in Massachusetts, your car will still likely be in New York.

Our driveway is intense and varied, which seems oddly appropriate. It's an experience unto itself, perhaps alone worth the visit.

I love our driveway. It's awesome.

Happy Wednesday,


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