’Round Town

Yellow

Wed, 11/09/2022 - 7:30am

    When our oldest daughter was in college we always enjoyed the trips over to visit. Route 101 to Keene, through Brattleboro, over the “Hogback” to beautiful Bennington. It was an interesting drive, winding at times and treacherous in winter, but none-the-less quite a departure from our Maine home.

    During some visits, when the college life became a little over stimulating, I, and sometimes we, would slip away to the perimeters of campus and explore the neighborhood. Lots of history over that way. The museum with the art of often Saturday Evening Post artist, Norman Rockwell, Bennington Pottery, and a fine morning diner near the deer weighing gas station, found our curiosity.

    During one visit with Mae at college, I ran off to explore the graveyard at the Old First Congregational church. It was an unexpected fine find. As I wandered around the grounds I was startled to notice the burial spot for Robert Frost! Thee Robert Frost? Yup. I had no idea.

    One of my favorite poets. I always thought he was from somewhere else. I knew he wrote a lot about New England but had no idea that Bennington was his final resting place. I sat down in the fall leaves next to his grave and recalled one of my most favorite Frost poems, which was recalled by this week’s leaf drop by our prized gingko— “The Road Not Taken,” by Robert Frost, which I will now share.

    Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

    And sorry I could not travel both

    And be one traveler, long I stood

    And looked down one as far as I could

    To where it bent in the undergrowth.

     

    Then took the other, as just as fair

    And having perhaps the better claim,

    Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

    Though as for that the passing there

    Had worn them really about the same.

     

    And both that morning equally lay

    In leaves no step had trodden black.

    Oh, I kept the first for another day!

    Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

    I doubted if I should ever come back.

     

    I shall be telling this with a sigh

    Somewhere ages and ages hence:

    Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

    I took the one less traveled by,

    And that has made all the difference.

    And it has.