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.
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I had a Sunday of wild mood swings, starting early in the morning with having to take over driving to Annapolis midway around the Beltway because Paul's contact lenses were hurting his eyes and he didn't have his glasses and ending with a late arrival home -- far too late, according to the cats -- after the final night of Baltimore's spectacular Light City festival. In between we went to a lovely, sad memorial service for our neighbor Ron, visited the National Aquarium, talked to various relatives, and tried to keep warm around the Inner Harbor. The day in photos:
Because Ron was an avid sailor who lived on a boat for two years, his wife and kids chose to celebrate his life on the Catherine Marie, a beautiful yacht docked in Annapolis. The original plan was to cruise during the service and lunch, but because of high wind warnings -- the Chesapeake Bay Bridge was closed to many trucks -- the captain decided that the yacht should remain in the sheltered marina instead of heading out from the city dock. (You can see the Maryland state house behind the boats.)
Aboard the ship were were many plants and photos, including a slide show, on the two enclosed levels where we were fed wonderful food including superb butternut squash ravioli.
The memorial was beautiful: Ron's musician son played the guitar, his daughter and friends recalled crazy sailing adventures and Nerf gun fights, there were poems read (including the one above) and songs sung. Afterward, we scattered rose petals on the water in memory of Ron.
While we were out on the deck, we watched a pair of ospreys working on a nest. This is the neighbor for whom Adam often did yard work, so local plants and animals were a frequent topic of conversation.
After the service, Paul's eye was feeling better, and since we'd decided it made more sense to go to Hanover on Monday to see his father and it was the last night of the Baltimore festival, we decided to go spend a couple of hours at the National Aquarium waiting for it to get dark. We saw the golden lion tamarins and the flying foxes, both of which are frequently hiding or asleep when we're at the aquarium, plus the Pacific octopus was being unusually sociable.
We had dinner at the Harborplace Noodles and Co. Some of the Light City installations could be enjoyed in daylight -- they just became more interesting after dark, though it was more complicated to take selfies then or to find someone I felt comfortable handing my camera.
At dusk the familiar views became spectacular, like this light display beneath the Seven Foot Knoll Lighthouse.
A view of the harbor, including the festival ferris wheel, through the rigging of the Pride of Baltimore II.
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