The well-traveled path fosters a sense of place and being home in Daydreaming on the Porch

Some people like to make a little garden out of life and walk down a path.

– Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road

I combed through a dozen or so photo albums from road trips I have taken over the years, looking for something familiar and which I return to over and over again. It may be a picture of the path ahead of me along a stream or creek as I am walking downstream. It might be a dirt road I have been traversing in a national forest; a desert out West; or a well-known back road near where I live. In every instance, these roads, but much more often now, the paths I walk every day, allow me to escape from the noise, traffic and awful news of the world which surrounds me, and which I badly need to totally remove myself from at least once every day.

On these ventures out to peaceful places at my favorite gardens and parks, I photograph many different things that catch my eye, because I am always looking. I photograph scenes of beauty on these late afternoon walks, scenes of landscapes I’ve seen countless times before in all seasons, but which never lose their capacity to stir my emotions and sense of awe, as well as gratitude. I am in ceaseless search of something I am never able to define or describe precisely as I wish I could. But that is what keeps me constantly seeking, always looking. Sometimes in my photographs I can see hints of what that is. Yet I know I must keep on. I feel compelled to by an inner need to discover beauty, nature’s intricate designs and patterns, and it’s solemn wisdom.

Therefore, it’s not surprising that I often take photos of a path or road I am walking or traveling along because I want to both remember more clearly where I have been, returning in my mind’s eye, days, weeks or years later, but also to be able to look at that path and think about the setting, the landscape, the scenery, and imagine and recall the mental and spiritual state of mind I was in during that brief period in my life.

Those paths and roads have all, with only a very few exceptions, been traveled or walked alone, free of distractions, but also with a heart weary at times from the all-encompassing solitude.

The prospect of being alone on long journeys has never impeded my quests over the years. Nor does it now. I hardly travel anymore, but I often walk the familiar paths near my home, because I have fewer destinations to seek out, and the ones which I do seek, I return to over and over again, knowing, as Burroughs observed, that I will discover new things each time. That learning, that seeking of answers has lasted a lifetime, as I discover something new each day.

A few of my favorite often-trod paths

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