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Winter flowers

dried flowers

The further I walked down the old access road, the more dilapidated the asphalt became. Tombstone-sized chunks broke off the shoulders, and deep, gaping cracks stretched like spiderwebs across the abandoned drive.

At the drop-off where the blacktop finally ended, the expansive beach was reclaiming its territory. Swirls of sand, tiny dust devils of fine, white grit, danced around my ankles.

Somewhere out beyond the sandbar, the road picked up again. It was hard to imagine a busy highway was once part of this landscape.

I left a withered wreath at the border between my past and future.

This week’s challenge is inspired by Flowers,” by Talking Heads

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