Milder today. Just a summer day on Venus, rather than a July day on the surface of the sun. And it was, for the most part, an ideal summer Friday, passing by uneventfully. So much so that I forgot, until tonight, to finish the laundry.
Why do tonight what solar power can do tomorrow, namely, move the dryer drum around and around and make my clothes toasty and fresh?
While admiring the flowers and the weeds today, I noticed this little hydrangea. It’s smaller shrub, hiding beneath larger things. I’m not sure if I’ve seen him before.
So in our 25 month here, I am still learning new things about the place. I love that. Though, I am glad that at this point most of the things I am learning are small things. They’re more charming and less harmful. And when I say harmful I am thinking of the pocketbook.
Since it wasn’t terrible hot today I set out for an early evening bike ride. Into town, through some neighborhoods, by the park, out into the pastureland again. I eased through a crossroad that has a name for no reason whatsoever, and then up past the rodeo arena. I rode on the closed shoulder.
It’s been closed for more than a year now. Maybe it’ll never re-open again. For now, it’s a nice stress-free stretch of three-quarters of a mile without worrying about traffic. And then you turn right, and into the wind, trying to stay low until you turn left again, driving your way through a cornfield, into the woods, and to the crazy house. The guy that lives there was outside today, doing whatever he was doing, until he stopped to yell at me. Then an overpass, more woods, some rural houses, more woods, two intersections, another overpass — I’m probably doing those out of order, because I’m trying hard through there and not paying attention.
Eventually I get into another neighborhood, which yields to a park which blends into a series of apartment complexes, which heralds the stop sign and the right-hand turn. And then it is four miles of town, businesses, houses, industrial complexes and trees, before turning right once more, the last turn and then seven miles straight home.
This is my 25-mile time trial, which I have just invented. I have done it three times now — once last year and twice this summer — and today’s ride was my fastest. So, of course, I have now added a new page to the spreadsheets. One more thing to track. One more place to try to ride a bit faster, a bit more efficiently.
The real metric, though, is that I had to put my foot on the ground just twice in 25 miles. Nine turns, 11 stop signs or lights, and stopping twice, that’s the real trial.
Funny how you can come to measure your minor successes.
