Friday I got my stitches out, and Saturday I got back on the bike. (With some trepidation, it must be admitted).
It's beautiful riding weather. With Spring now more or less firmly established (though we still had a few near-freezing nights last week), the blossoms we didn't get in April are finally popping out now in May.
A few miles out of town, a wild plum stretches a flower-decked arm to the sky:
We pass a patch of white violets, and stop for photos. Tallulah climbs onto my rim for a whiff:
Just around the corner, an Allegheny Serviceberry peeps shyly out from the edge of the woods:
Its blossoms are rosy-hearted and lovely:
"How about a dandelion photo?" says Tallulah. "Dandelions are flowers too."
I'm stopping for photos every chance I get, because my arm is hurting and I'm feeling teary and vulnerable on the bike. Though it seems ridiculous to feel this way, I can't seem to shake it.
But there's beauty all around, in the new-leaved trees and the peaceful winding streams:
And flowering trees send sweetness drifting through the air.
I tell myself that Sunday's ride will be better.
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And so it turns out to be - much better in every way. The weather is still beautiful, the gloom has lifted from my spirits, and my arm hardly aches at all on this ride. :)
A favourite barn looks cheerily red, with green grass below and blue sky behind:
This little shed makes regular appearances on my blog:
There's something charming about its rusty roof, weathered boards, and vine-hung front. Every year it sags a little more, and someday I know it will collapse - but when it does I will have plenty of photos to remember it by.
Tall trees, blue sky, a bicycle, and empty roads - what could be better?
Like Marianne Dashwood, I am "feeling all the happy privilege of country liberty, of wandering from place to place in free and luxurious solitude."
Iris rests against a bridge...
...while I wander down the bank for a shot of these Marsh Marigolds (or kingcups):
It's a lovely spot.
A mile or two up the road, I spy a new-to-me apple tree at the edge of the woods, on a high bank above the road. I park the bike and clamber up for some photos.
The apple tree is just coming on to bloom:
Its beauty of blossom and bud, leaf and branch, is beyond words. The sight fills my soul with deep, quiet joy; like Anne of Green Gables, I can lay my hand on my breast and say "It just satisfies me here." (And like Annie of Knitsofacto, I can rejoice in a new apple tree on my mental map.)
At the foot of the apple tree grow some tiny, ghostly flowers which I've never seen before:
They grow on a tall stalk; I will look them up when I get home. (I forget completely to do this. Will have to identify them another time.)
Across the road the verge is literally carpeted with violets:
In a week or so there will be lilacs on this road as well. I do like Spring. :)
One last flower shot, of wild mustard vividly yellow against the pale blue sky:
A few miles later I'm home and feeling much more cheerful about being back on the bike.
Two rides - the first very uncomfortable, the second much better - both full of Spring loveliness. I am grateful.
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