Sigh.
That was the first thing that escaped my lips yesterday afternoon as I realized the temps were moving much higher on the thermometer than predicted, encouraging a temporary escape from the daily routine for a relaxing ride through the countryside.
The rollercoast ride of temperatures was reaching a high that begged me to come outside and enjoy because the temps for the next few days were going to be Arctic.
That was it. No discussion. One quick pill to make my arm forget any complaints, and my bike and I were off to enjoy a very quiet and peaceful cycle through the warming countryside.
It was my intention to only ride the gravel roads that afternoon, which meant more short and steep sections that would demand some higher assist and lower gears, but would also pretty much ensure I should have the planned 16 miles all to myself without a car in sight. Blissful solitude.
My plan worked flawlessly. It was just the birds, the sun, and I enjoying the spat of warmth and the gentle miles. Not even a breeze bothered to stir. Along the way Spring peeked out at me here and there through small groups of deep green bulb leaves sprouting from the dark earth, and buds swelling on the very tips of trees and bushes. It was as if everything was just holding it's breath, waiting for the final telltale spin of the planet to let loose the explosion of new growth and a kaleidoscope of awe inspiring color that was true Springtime.
But it as not yet time. The grays and browns of Winter maintained their position over the landscape, refusing to yield ground. I cycled past miles of century old stone walls warming in the sun, still wearing their warm blankets of autumn leaves and summer moss. They had infinite patience, unlike the bits of green grass at the base of the walls, their tiny thin spikes already eagerly pushing aside the dead leaves that still littered the ground from last fall. Most of the casualities of last Autumn were already halfway on their journey to be reclaimed by the soil, the entire landscape swathed in a reflective mood, musing over the certainities of the past while contemplating the uncertainties of the future.
The memories of other centuries so very long ago tend to swirl in deep eddies along these gravel roads. Memories that reach out to brush lightly across the mind as one cycles along watching the land move past at a languid pace, bits of memory nudging the past forward into view to be assured it is not forgotten by those who are lucky enough to look for it.
I stopped at a beautiful house about 5 miles enroute to visit a neighbor (everyone who lives out in the country is a neighbor if they live within 5 miles) that I had met last fall while I was hacking down the road while she was cycling up the same road on her new ebike. Of course my friend and I just had to stop and chat with her, our horses happy to chill out and nap while we all talked.
As we three concluded our impromptu chat she and I happily agreed to get together for a bike ride, and she took down my number. I hadn't heard from her since, but knew where she lived, so my visit was to get caught up. It was a quick visit and she was thrilled to touch base again. She had been out on her bike only three more times since we met, and said she had wanted to call me several times but was worried that she wasn't in good enough shape to ride with me. She said she was just too shy to make that leap of faith. I laughed and assured her with an easy wave of my hand that a casual slow jaunt down the road was my preferred method of cycling anyway, so her company would be more than welcome. It would be perfect. Once the good weather had come to stay, I promised I'd get her out for a ride. She was eager to see my bike, so we continued our conversation outside in the warm sun, enjoying ebike talk as only ebikers can do.
After our goodbyes and a last pat to her trio of endearing and very enthusiastic Labradors, I set off on the remaining part of my ride, following the gravel roads as they wound through woods, crossed streams via low water dams, and traveled the fence lines of endless pastures dotted with pampered horses wearing colorful, albeit very muddy, winter horse attire.
The rolling roads kept me busy shifting my assist and gears, and the slow pace kept my arm - still under the influence of the one pain pill - happy and without complaint. My goal at that point was to visit a riding friend's farm to see the progress of the solar panels she was having installed on her expansive stable.
She had smartly taken advantage of the closing rebate period and was intent to go as green as possible with all her future energy needs. The panels would generate a very nice 38kW of power on an optimum day for all the farm and house needs. She was out of state at the moment, so no chance to catch up...which we will do later. The temps were already dropping, so I didn't linger except to chat briefly with the installers - who were on their second to the last panel to set in place - take a photo, then head on towards home.
The final half mile to my farm was a small stretch of paved road heading downhill. From the heights one overlooked the long stretch of the Blue Ridge mountains as they lined up north and south, a solid wall of ancient rise that predated the dinosaurs. Tired, old, and in their second fall towards the embrace of Mother Earth, they were still a sight of the immense beauty that defines our planet. And of home.
I set my bike to freewheel in delirious joy down the paved road in increasing speed until the wind whistled around my speeding frame and my grin reached from ear to ear, a delightfully childlike way to end any bike ride.
Sigh.