Mother's Day, Gifts, and Life in the Rear View Mirror
It had been catch-as-catch-can for sunny, just-the-right-temperature days lately, so to have one on Mother's Day was just...awesome. Breakfast in bed notwithstanding, this was the present that begged to be enjoyed next.
So I did, taking the LaFree as my companion for a quiet loop on the local gravel roads. My neighbor, another mom, wanted to ride with me, but her family calendar refused to sync with mine, and after the two of us struggled back and forth via text to find the right time to meet where we'd both be back home for the prerequisite family arrivals with more gifts and celebrations, we just ultimately decided that Wednesday was the best alternative.
So it was the LaFree and I setting out together for some peaceful pedaling.
I don't know where my GPS came up with a top speed of almost 20mph because my pace was deliberately slow, my only intention to mimic the lazy looping glides of the raptor overhead, calmly watching the scenery pass by as the road slipped away under my wheels with nary a sound, the trees all dressed in vibrant green for my day, eager to share their desire to offer gifts of cool shade wrapped in dappled ribbons of gravel byways.
A few times, as the road gave me the much appreciated gift of a level passage, I turned off the bike's motor, just to hear the complete and overwhelming silence around me, as if nothing in the world was wrong, no pandemic ranged to squash the normal celebrations of the day, nothing anywhere could be a finer gift but the cheerful sounds of Mother Nature herself in full volume of songbird choruses singing their hearts out, enjoying the day with me.
I climbed a private driveway for this shot. The owners had been old friends for many years, but were no longer in residence. The husband, who bred thoroughbred race horses, had written and published several equine related books, and I was in two of the many photographs he used for the books. He jokingly told me one day, when I stopped in for a visit, that I was the only person who appeared twice in his books (everyone else only had one photograph), which I found both entertaining and funny. I have copies those books, autographed by him, but no longer have him as my neighbor since his death a year or so back. His wife, a wonderful sweet individual, now lives in a small house in town. The kids, sadly, didn't want the spectacular several hundred acre mountainside thoroughbred breeding property, so it now sits empty, all the broodmares sold long ago, the fields still beautifully groomed, still ready for horses, yet still silent. The property is listed for sale for several million.
As I came down the driveway I notice a bevy of cyclists passing by on the gravel road below. I paused and watched them tackle the hill just off the driveway entrance, standing in their pedals as they worked their way up to the top of the slope, and wondered if they gave half a thought to the history around them - that the property they had just passed was once owned by the former Under Secretary of Commerce in the Reagan administration, that the driveway they were passing is actually the entryway to the centuries old Mt. Weather Road which goes to the top of the mountain on a byway that dates back well over 200 years ago and still faithfully follows the same path as shown on the document now residing in the county archives, that exact same document given to the Road commissioners 200 years ago by the owners of the mountain lands when they petitioned to have this mountain road built, and the old abandoned building just at the top of the hill to their right being a former thriving gas station and country store in the 1950s, a once bustling village center, now standing mute, ramshackle, vinecovered and forgotten, kept company only by an ancient pickup truck that has remained parked next to the deteriorating building for many years, slowly rusting away even as it faithfully waits for an owner who will never return.
I guess they didn't as they topped the hill and disappeared, never once glancing back to see me return to the gravel road and continue on my way.
I headed the opposite way on the quiet gravel road, studying the mountains to one side, and the fields around me. It was about then that I noticed the scenery around me never left my side, and each time I glanced in my rear view mirror I was gifted with another unique present - that of the road behind.
It was different, every bit as pretty, and exquisitely framed by my mirror. With the entire countryside to myself I began watching the ribbons of road trail behind me, nonplussed, unraveling with abandon as they draped across the landscape with only my bike's tire marks to show they had been thus enjoyed and hence summarily discarded. Their gift never failed to delight me with how it looked in the rear view mirror.
I discovered that cows in a rear view mirror don't run away. Never knew that before.
I was surprised to see a few other moms out, solitary, enjoying the roads. This mom had been ahead of me for a bit, and then disappeared into the distance while I stopped to enjoy the loving attention of a very obese Labrador by the name of Percy who was out escorting his own mom around his yard. Percy was fully aware of this special day to all moms, and was thrilled to offer me his gift of a massively overstated wiggly body complete with a happy tail and big ol' doggy grin. His mom was full of smiles as she watched her boy envelope me with his delightful canine goodwill, and I wasn't the least perturbed to stand and give his big head as many loving pats and "such a good boy" compliments as he could adorably eat up like they were the best treats in the whole wide world. Percy was in such heaven dispensing good will that he had a hard time saying goodbye, but with smiles and waves and exchanged Happy Mother's Day greetings with his mom who had to hold tight to his collar to prevent Percy from happily escorting me down the road (which she said she certainly wouldn't mind because maybe it would help him lose some weight), I was finally on my way.
The mom ahead of me had stopped at a crossroads, and we had a chance to talk. She was from the DC area, from the county next to mine, and had heard from friends how beautiful the gravel roads were out in here. This was her first time exploring, and so she had downloaded the maps created for last year's Gravel Grinder ride to support the rural roads. (The 2020 ride had been scheduled for this coming weekend, but due to the current pandemic was now rescheduled for mid-October). I knew from the online GPS maps the route would lead her right past my farm, so told her where to expect it. She smiled as she told me I was so very lucky to live out here. I smiled back and told her I was glad to see her, and so many other cyclists, out enjoying the area.
This mom I actually passed twice, quite a few miles apart, and we greeted each other both times. She told me she was thoroughly enjoying her ride as we exchanged Mother's Day greetings.
They are almost invisible in this picture, but there are two cyclists at the top of this road, both paused to consult the maps on their phones, take a drink of water, and then head on their way for more adventures. Little did they know that within seconds they would pass my driveway where a little Mother's Day celebration would be held within the hour. A celebration of love, happiness, family and gifts in the form of strawberry plants for the new garden.
Best view of all - home. Time to reconnect with loved ones and finish out the day with heartfelt celebration and good cheer and a special thank you to Mother Nature for her gift of a gorgous morning for a pleasant Mother's Day bike ride.
Best Day Ever.