The road leads to… flood waters.
Sometimes #the_road leads nowhere.
I live on a cul-de-sac, a side street which runs downhill from the town’s Main Street toward the Connecticut River. For most of us, it is a road that leads only home (the farmer at the street’s end works in those fields). If we want to go anywhere else, we have to go the other way.
In spring, particularly in a spring when heavy winter snowpacks in the mountains of Vermont and New Hampshire melt swiftly, the river rises dramatically. Looking down my street, I can see very clearly just how far I can go. So far, and no further, unless I want to change my car for a canoe.
That may be why I’m so fascinated with bridges.
A bridge transforms the road to nowhere to a road to somewhere. The boundary remains an obstacle, but loses the character of insuperability. I can leap over, and I do not even need to fly.
What would a road be without a bridge?
Crossing the waters
ordainedgeek 