I memorized Robert Frost’s poem when I was eight or nine-years-old. I was killing some time between meetings in Reno and took a walk along the Truckee River. The light was crisp and this reminded me of Frost.
The light was bouncing around a bit through here and I thought about Robert Frost for some reason without even realizing I was recalling the poem. My mother read it to me as we sat beside a stream at our ranch when I was eight or nine and asked me to memorize it. I thought it was too hard, and yet I didn’t want to disappoint. The grove immediately reminded me of that stream and I didn’t think about Frost until I sat down to review my photo walk and said aloud, “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and I took the one less traveled by.” There have been a large number of different paths and I’m lately wondering if they have all been the best paths to follow.
