Fred and I like to walk down by the river. (I walk. Fred ambles, stopping to smell the occasional dog’s butt.) Our preferred path takes us by this sign, which had long fascinated me, starting with the name Gabryel. It’s an uncommon spelling of Gabriella that means “God is my strength.” And “Creative Inquiry”: what exactly was that? Was Gabryel offering a philosophical discourse on the human condition?
While my curiosity was always piqued en route, by the time I returned home my attention had long turned to other matters.
Except one day I finally stopped and opened her URL with my smartphone (Fred used the time to pee on bushes). I’m not going to tell you what Gabryel does – it should be an enquiry you make when your curiosity is piqued often enough, too.
I’m bringing this up now because this past week, when Fred and I reached the river, instead of starting down the public path, we veered right to the road less taken (maybe because it’s marked private), which took us in to what’s left of a boat yard. It’s a gorgeous wreck of a place.
I was surprised as we walked further in to find a grassy field on which horses grazed. From the street side, it appears that the only thing there is a nasty tangle of trees, bushes and bog. It turns out that the owner of the old boat yard keeps retired racing horses on the grounds.
There are many paths to Gabryel. The easiest way is to link to her. Fred and I, we took the road less traveled, and that has made all the difference.