I had promised myself yesterday that if the temps hit mid-40s(f) - this "warm" spell coming hard on the heels of two days of well below freezing temperatures that kept us prisoners indoors - I would venture out for a quick gravel road ride. 2pm rolls around, the thermometer having painfully inched up by fractional degrees all morning and afternoon, finally exhausted from the struggle to even reach 42° (5c). Good enough for a ride around the block. I spent a full half hour digging through a big box of gloves to find just the pair I wanted for the ride, donned all the necessary clothing to survive a winter Arctic onslaught, and set off for an 8.5 mile ride on our lovely gravel roads, full of anticipation that I would...not might, but would ...meet up with some stretches of road covered in ice.
Which I did. Which involved some fairly dexterous maneuvering to navigate, but thankfully nothing involving any type of athleticism in remaining upright that would instantly earn me a place on the upcoming Olympic figure skating team. I simply gripped my handlebar tighter and prayed while my bike glided over the ice with expert grace. Fortunately, the ice patches were few and far between, although I'm sure I rode over several that had camouflaged themselves as mud covered gravel. Sneaky, but harmless.
The ice was more easily identifiable on the wider, quiet stretches of the woodland streams, but none was found where the water tumbled freely. The remaining scatters of the last snowfall still hung around in the roadside ditches and in elongated rows in the fields.
I passed a stone fenceline in the process of being restacked, the work having paused for the winter with everything left as it was when the worker merely stopped what he was doing and walked off the job. The newly stacked section looked impressive, quite neat and very precise, but I was surprised to see a bit further along that the stone wall had already begun to look less impressive with the rocks already beginning to slide out of place. That type of denigration takes a few years or more, making me wonder just how long this stone wall had been under construction. Maybe it was being repaired in fits and starts and it wasn't just the winter snows and cold that was hindering the completion because, only a bit further down the road, I came upon a worker actively restacking a different stone wall. He smiled as I passed and I returned the greeting, watching as he selected exactly which rock from a pile of rocks would be the next one on the wall. The lingering snow around the site didn't seem to bother the man as he worked. He looked comfortable and warm, dressed for the job and the season. This was going to be one wall finished and ready come the springtime.
I did notice, too, that all of the festive Christmas decorations that had adorned every farm and estate entrance, as well as the residential houses along the way, had disappeared. Now that the holidays were over, and all the colorful bows and wreaths and lights and pine tree trappings had been taken down and packed away until next year, the drab winter covered landscape seemed to had hunkered down to patiently wait for spring, like an old person huddled in a warm coat quietly waiting at a bus stop for the next bus to arrive. It would be a long wait as winter wasn't done with us yet.
And before I knew it my loop around the countryside had ended and I was home again. With warm fingers this time, warm toes, and plan to head out tomorrow when the temps are due to soar close to 50°f (10c). Practically a heat wave. A nice respite that is scheduled to be snatched away the following day with a plunge back into bone chilling sub-freezing weather yet again.