The new year gives pause for thought, to make resolutions or take a break just to sit back, observe, and enjoy. Sometimes, we take that break on our own; and sometimes, it is forced upon us. This story is about the latter.
One day, this past fall, I headed down to Yanceyville to visit with my son, Jeremy, and his wife, Rose. I came to an area of U.S. Highway 86, in which a new, wider bridge over a low-lying area and creek was under construction.
A point in the work had been reached where it was necessary to halt traffic and let cars from each side take turns in slowly trickling through.
Up ahead was the usual sight of a worker holding a reversible sign, orange, a “less intense” color for “Slow,” and the sign’s reverse, displaying the next, most “urgent” color in that direction of the spectrum: “red” for “Stop!”
I always refer to that particular line of work as “sign man.” I’m sure the Highway Department uses a more official -sounding name (but perhaps not).
My section of highway, with its long line of backed-up cars reminded me of a “thrombosis.” w\While the new section of highway reminded me of a “stint.”
Looking at the dirt road which had been made for the construction equipment; and looking at several piles of earth, I thought back to some years ago when I would search for Native American artifacts in several plowed Caswell County tobacco fields. I had an urge to get out of my car and go looking where this construction had plowed across the hill, but realized if I did, the result might be a visit from the law. An old man looking for arrowheads on an off-limits construction site would make for a strange, but rather boring Cops video, unless I “acted up” when arrested.
I decided it would be safer to remain in my car and avail myself of the nature around me by doing some “armchair David Attenborough” (“car seat David Attenborough” sounds a little infantile). I stopped next to a wooded area a little way up from the construction site.
I had passed that same spot many times before in a rush (well, 55 mph). This time, as I had gradually slowed to a stop. It was as if the film reel had stuck, but not melted. The vaudeville background wheel’s rotation had been stayed, or one of the flip-page movie’s pages had been dog-eared in mid flip. And there I was!
Some years ago, and on another highway, I was halted by another “sign man,” with that construction being so far away as to be over the horizon. At the time, I thought, Maybe nothing’s going on. No construction at all. Maybe he’s just out here on his own, getting what he, alone, considers to be a particular (and peculiar) version of “overtime.” At the country’s current state of “road rage,” this would be a very dangerous thing to do!
We are always annoyed by the inconvenience of the sign man’s mandatory stop. But, let’s try looking at it differently. Consider it a gentle, communal pause at a safe highway spot. Where we get the chance to use our faculties to make of that time whatever we can, kind of like “making lemonade from lemons.”
Sitting there, engine stopped, I listened to the radio a few minutes. Then switched it off to save my battery and rolled down my window. Without the “electronic stuff,” it was a mid-afternoon sunny, summer’s day, filled with summer sights of adjacent forest vegetation and the sounds of birds and bugs, including cicadas, bees, flies, and a “click beetle” or two.
I saw several tiger swallowtail butterflies. Unlike the aforementioned insects, they were, of course, silent. They flapped a bit, then took long glides in the mid-afternoon sun, landing on several Joe Pye Weed plants to enjoy the nectar. All of a sudden, the wind kicked up, possibly a “puff” from some afternoon storm over the horizon. Even though the “Joe Pye” stalks swayed rather energetically, the swallowtails held on for dear life, or more appropriately “for dear drink “( I started to put an exclamation mark here; but decided not to, as that would been too much “noise” for such a pastoral picture).
Another advantage of “Stopping by woods on a sunny afternoon” (paraphrased Frost), was that I got to do some cloud study. I “saw” a duck and Godzilla. Fortunately, for the duck, Godzilla stayed on his side of the sky.
Since the trees of the woods were no longer a passing “green blur,” but “individuals,” I could determine the different “generations” of tree life: young, middle age, senior. If I had gotten out of my car and walked over the forest floor, kicking up leaf litter, I might have even observed newborn sprouts rising up from random acorns.
Then, the car in front of me slowly edged forward. And my reverie, born of a forced pause, was then, itself paused by my being allowed to proceed, my eyes, ears, and attention now on nothing but traffic.
My water bottle lay next to my gear shift (2000 Oldsmobile Alero). But, I wasn’t really thirsty.
Because my “lemonade,” made from the “lemons” of my mandatory stop had refreshed me quite nicely!
