Two Roads Diverged in a Wood, and I...

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference. 

I first read "The Road Not Taken" during one of my most dreaded middle school classes -English. Ironic, due to the fact that I have since become an English teacher. I guess I hated all of the repetition and memorization required during those years so I would tune the teacher out completely and get lost inside the pages of my literature book. Some days there was an adventure, other days it was a sad memoir, but the day I found the poetry section a new love blossomed. I had so many questions and earned for discussion but my classmates didn’t understand and my teacher did not have the time.

You could trace my interest in teaching back to that moment. I despised my English teacher that year and felt she had no clue how to inspire a group of twelve-year-olds, let alone keep us interested in her monotonous worksheets. It was then I decided Robert Frost was going to be my teacher that year. A particular poem stood out to me, defined me. It still does. It may sound cliché given the poem’s popularity but the words invoked such strong feelings in me as an adolescent that I have turned to the poem for comfort and reassurance in times of uncertainty. 

Life’s has thrown me a little more than my fair share of curve balls but it has taught me that I become better, stronger, and more aware with every new pitch.

Thanks, Mr. Frost

 

The Road Not Taken

By Robert Frost

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.

Project 52

It sure has been awhile since I've logged in here! It feels good to be back making time to do something I enjoy.

I've also started a photography project for the year: 52 photos each with a directive theme. I plan to use it to ensure that I pick up my camera weekly. I don't like how much I have forgotten about photography over the years. It is not like riding a bicycle, that's for sure!

For the project we are asked to interpret the theme however we wish, write up a little background info on the photo, and publish it to the facebook group sponsored by the ever so sweet Sarah at My 4 Hens.

I plan to document my photos here as well either bi-weekly or monthly for personal assessment. I hope to grow as a photographer with this project, and break away from any self-doubt in addition to the harsh criticisms and judgment others' may offer. It's time to stop wondering and regretting that I ever let this wonderful potential career slip into an almost non-existent hobby. I'm happy with a camera in my hands. So there it shall stay!


1/52 Imperfection

My grandmother and I were close, especially during the holidays. She could always be found in kitchen; whether that meant starting the sauce at 8 a.m. or baking the most delicate and tasty of treats. Her superb culinary skills allowed her to thrive, yet her most comforting moments of gratitude were the initial smiles that spread across even the grumpiest of faces. “The initial smile is the most genuine,” she would tell me. Before they have time to remember their manners or offer a polite “well done, tastes great,” that smile would fill her heart with gratitude.
 
My grandma taught me a lot about cooking, baking, and hosting. She would always say things like, “I know this doesn’t matter to you much right now, but don’t you forget it.” I took her words to heart and tried my very best to remember all that she taught me. My grandmother has been gone for many years now and as I grow up I find that she did much more than teach me my way around the kitchen. She was sick for many years and knew she wouldn’t be around to advise me so she took every opportunity to prepare me ahead of time.
 
I think about her all the time now, and wonder what she would say about the choices I’ve made, how I’ve dealt with certain situations, and if she was alive to give me such advice would I listen or stubbornly choose my own indirect path? Then I look down at the rosary she left me and realize she’s never stopped.

2/52 Imperfection

I've been waiting all week to snap my perfectly envisioned shot but work, for the both of us, keeps getting in the way. We are all guilty of getting caught up in work, but I find that I am confronted with a stack of paperwork more often than not. And unfortunately, I prioritize it over everything. When I first read the word imperfect, I wanted to capture a character flaw of mine. I believe that this photo is a baby step in the right direction towards re-prioritizing my life!