I am prepared for moments of divine intimation, while on vacation, while driving through the Rockies or sitting on a rock in Maine or walking along some tropical beach. Epiphanies, those heady moments of sudden knowing and peace, occur in the midst of beauty and solitude, not on crowded Route 138 in Stoughton. But it happened there this week, on a road without charm and not a whole lot of trees, everything green and innately beautiful knocked down or paved over.