A Crisp Saturday Ride

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Cattails looking like cotton candy
Roadside carpets of gold and bronze
Clouds that could have rained but didn't

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Although rain was forecast for Sunday, Saturday was beautifully clear, so I hurried through the housework in order to squeeze in a ride before church. The air was crisp (as were the leaves on the roadsides), and the northwest wind was downright cold. Some heavy clouds were overhead when I left the house, obscuring the sun and adding to the chill, but they soon dispersed and marched grandly eastwards in a picturesque display.

My weekend rides are beginning to have a valedictory feel - I never know which ride will be the last of the season. The road is full of memories - here is the field where I saw a flock of wild turkeys; this small pasture used to be full of daisies; that's the place where the hawk flew out of the woods and over my head; over there the wild bergamot grew. So much beauty to look back on and remember.

Maple leaves like stylized flowers outlined against the sky. This would make a lovely fabric print or stencil, I think.

A cattail looking just like cotton candy, or spun sugar if you prefer. Spun brown sugar, at that.

I pass a row of pines with glowing birches hiding behind, peeking out from between the branches and reminding me of a stained glass window.

I'm not sure what this farmer is doing - discing perhaps? He's looking over his shoulder as he goes.

Ophelia comes to mind as I stop on a bridge and look down to see these maple leaves drowned in a brook.

"Leaves in the glassy stream..."

This has become a favourite corner. The glory of gold and red leaves may be gone from the trees overhanging the water, but the beauty remains.

Here are bright leaves enough to satisfy me - many of the oaks are still glowing with colour ...

...while others have dropped every leaf, and bravely face the winter without a shred of clothing.

Some very interesting vines, with dried fruit pendent like little lanterns.

A close-up of the fruit - rather a prickly variety.

The birches are also slowly disrobing and leaving a carpet of gold on the verge ...

... but there are still enough leaves glowing against the blue sky to justify a picture.

A few yards away, this wasps' nest hangs nearly over the road, looking a bit like marbled Italian paper.

A contrail across the autumn sky. Who are the people in that jet, and where are they going? What tragedies or comedies or romances are being acted out in their lives? (A contrail always fills me with a sense of mystery and adventure.)

A dark-red oak peeks over a hill.

A stubble field of corn, with a glorious background of trees and sky.

This stray cob looks like an exotic bird or butterfly in the grass. As I snap this picture I hear a motorcycle approach, and lo and behold! Mr. M pulls up. "Photo op?" he asks. He looks somehow sexy in his helmet and motorcycle gear - very manly and dashing. We chat for a few minutes, and he drives off to finish his own weekend ride. A pleasant encounter.

Here's a better view of the trees behind the cornfield. So lovely.

At the corner, I see these odd white boxes at the edge of a field. What can they be? Then it hits me - beehives, of course.

Happy bees, to have a backdrop like that.

A beautiful day and a very good ride, followed by church and homemade pizza. A rainy day of cosiness and crochet to look forward to on the morrow. Life is good.

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