A Road By Any Other Name...

Last Thursday one of my neighbors asked me if I would drive her to a medical appointment she had in a town about an hour and a half north of the tiny hamlet where we live.  I said I would, though wasn't totally eager as three hours round-trip, plus the hour appointment was going to stretch the afternoon into early evening.  I don't do well driving in the dark over mountain passes, but whatever.  She needed help and that's what neighbors are for...right?

Have you ever given much thought, dear readers, to that peculiar adage: The road to Hell is paved with good intentions?  I've always considered it a quaint, slightly strange saying because, really, good intentions aren't usually paired with most connotations of Hell.

Sigh.

I leave the boys home after giving them lunch, treats and a good pit stop outside, then I head out around 1:30 to collect my neighbor.  We arrive at the clinic place just after 3:00. At this point all is well.  We made good time and even though the weather is crap, I'm hoping the predicted storm will hold off until later, when I'm back home.

Across the way from the medical complex is a nice little cafe.  I tell my neighbor I'll be back in 45 minutes, walk to the cafe and have a coffee and a very yummy lemon bar.  The music is subtle in the background, the cafe is quiet, I'm reading my book...and a pleasant hour flies by.  So far, so good.

It's now 4:30, the skies are getting darker, not just because it's growing later, but because the storm clouds are gathering in gigantic clumps of black fury. Damnation.  As hail begins to fall, I dash into the reception area, expecting to see my neighbor.  Alas.  She has just gone in to her appointment due to an earlier emergency with another patient.

Time to start paving that road...

We finally head for home around 6:00.  The weather was beyond atrocious, visibility pretty much the hood of my car, the rain was so intense I couldn't see the lines dividing the lanes and believe me when I say, it is frigging dark in the wilderness at night. Hair-raising doesn't come close.  My neighbor was lucky, though...she was so dopey from her procedure, she didn't have a clue.

Long story short, I dropped her off at her place and after nearly seven hours, I made it home myself. The dogs were beyond happy to see me and I was thrilled I didn't have to spend an hour shampooing the carpet because of their walnut-sized bladders. How they managed to hang on that long is beyond me, though man, I'm glad they did.

So.  This morning, I had just walked into the house after taking the boys to the park when there's a knock on the front door.  My neighbor brought me a thank you for last Thursday...

Miltonia Orchid...

It's a beautiful plant.  Here's a close-up of one of the spectacular blooms...

And okay, now I think I get the saying. Still, at least my road to Hell has beautiful flowers...