I live in a city at the mercy of a river. Water, cutting deep, jagged banks, ravines, cliffs left wild due to the impracticality of building bridges over them. Because of the winding river and steep, steep banks, roads curve, give way to nature, and detour through parkways to accommodate the rugged landscape rather than catering to human whim that likes to get straight from point A to B.
It's taken some getting used to.
I was raised along the same river, but a wider, gentler stretch where beach and bank slope smoothly up. Manicured parks and bridges abound. We have three bridges, a mere five blocks apart. The idea of going twenty blocks out of my way just to get across the water seems so primitive. Where are the thoroughfares? The freeway bridges? Oh, they're there, just past that next cliff. The next bend in the river. Watch out for the gulley.
Most of the year, I fume at the wasted time, the extra mile back-tracked to get to the doctors, the idea of crossing the river twice to get to the conservatory. But when autumn comes, those detours are a treat. Hairpin curves walled with almost vertical bush take me down through ravine to a tree-lined road along the river. Over the freeway to avoid the tracks and the traffic bending through more trees, more brush. Colour spectrum from emerald through jade, gold, amber, topaz, a speckling of garnet. It's worth the extra fifteen minutes in September.
Joining up with Kate for another Five(ish) Minute Friday. Today's word was "because". Do wander over to Heading Home to see what other writers have done with their five minutes.