My Street

In the foreground you’ll see there’s a street sign warning drivers that the bridge will freeze before the roadway. Further back you see the guard rail that keeps things from falling off of the bridge. The street is called a road, and although there’s no traffic on the road in the picture, I did have to wait on several cars to pass before I stepped out and took the picture. This section of road is near my house. The road is pretty busy considering I live in a small town, on a road that I would call a paved country road.

If you look hard enough, far enough, you will see a stop sign that is part of a four-way stop intersection. Beyond that you can see the road climbs out of sight. That hill ultimately rises another 150 feet or so in elevation higher than where I stood to take the picture. The bridge spans a short river (roughly 11.5 miles long) known as Black Brook. I have found printed information that mentions Black Brook as far back as the early 1700’s when Native American Indians lived throughout this small river valley.

For now, though, this is my street. I travel this road nearly every single day. Some days I am fortunate enough to never leave my home or even venture down to my street. To be honest, I think I would just as soon have lived on this street back in the 1700’s or 1800’s even as much as I enjoy it in the present. Either way, I must say, I do really like my street, and the spot we occupy along its way.

My street

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