A Drop-Dead Gorgeous Ride

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Green like a mantle of grace on the fields
Birds-foot trefoil in glory of gold
Thinking of cycling friends round the world

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It is indeed a gorgeous day. A thunderstorm rolled through yesterday evening, clearing the air and dropping the temperature by about 20 degrees. Last night was delightfully cool, and we woke this morning to crisp clear air and a deep, deep blue sky.

The air is fresh, with temps in the low 70s and a brisk wind blowing from the northwest. The first thing I notice after setting out is the smell of freshly-mown grass. (Yes, we have GRASS again!)

The second is a little, new-to-me yellow flower just outside town. An online search (post-ride) reveals that this cheerful little blossom rejoices in the name of nipplewort:

(Really, who comes up with these names?)

Another mystery wildflower is filling the ditches with snow-like drifts of tiny white blossoms. Anyone know what it is?

A birch tree rubs elbows with an aspen, blue and white sky behind.

Around a few bends, this corn crib (?) stands decoratively empty:

It's a wonderful year for grapevines. They must like the drought, for they've been lush and green all summer. This one twines affectionately round the barbed wire of a concrete fence post:

I stop to say "hi" to my porcine friends at our egg supplier's house. (Look at those cute wrinkly faces. Do they know they'll be bacon one day? And very delicious bacon too.)

WHAT a gorgeous day - almost too beautiful to be true. (But it is.)

If Monet lived in Wisconsin, he'd have painted these clouds:

Power lines looking stately against their backdrop of sky and corn.

Here's another corn crib, standing empty and bare in the midst of green, green grass.

Someone has a very lovely yard decoration. (I'd like to see it at night, all lit up.)

Over a hill and down the other side, and the verge is carpeted with birds-foot trefoil. Simply glorious!

I reach a stretch of road that's new to me, and along it grow these interesting flowers:

The buds are a pale mauve, and none of them seem to be opened any more than what you see above. Another new wildflower to wonder about. : )

As I ride, I think of the cycling friends I've met online, friends who encourage me by example. One inspires me to go farther and try harder; another inspires me to stop and take more pictures along the way. (You know who you are, gals, and I thank you.)

Despite the fact that last week's post consisted mainly of barns, I can't resist shooting more. Here's a detail from one of them. I love the stone foundation:

Swallows line the wires on this stretch of road. "Don't look now," one of them whispers to his mate, "but there's a woman in a pink jersey taking our picture."

A bit farther on, a stubble field is full of sandhill cranes. (Shiny silo tops peek over the horizon, reminding me for some reason of "War of the Worlds".)

They do not appreciate having their photo taken (the cranes I mean, not the silos) and rise with squawks of protest to find a field where they can browse unmolested by stray cyclists with cameras.

I pass a charming country church...

...standing amidst soybean fields, right out in the middle of nowhere.

Crossing over these railroad tracks, I linger hopefully. What are the chances of a train coming along?

Slim to none. Time to press on for the goal of today's ride: this lake. The road passes on a narrow neck of land between two expanses of water. Here is the view to my right...

...(which includes this charming little floating porch surrounded by water lilies)...

...and here is the view to my left. Blue sky, blue water, floating birds, and windswept grasses. (I do like Wisconsin.)

At the edge of the lake, a U.S. Marine flag flies under the Stars and Stripes (reminding me of my dad).

My camera is flashing "low battery". This is my turnaround point, and my longest ride to date this year - which, with photos, means several hours on the road. I decide in the interests of time and battery life to make tracks for home and keep the camera in my pocket.

I turn the bike, into a sprightly headwind, and start on the homeward trail. It's a good thing I've decided to stop taking photos. With a wind this strong, I need to focus on riding and getting home in decent time. (Ha ha. Who am I kidding?)

But wait - here's another unidentified but beautiful little flower I've been seeing along the road. Just one last photo, I tell myself:

I come to a corner swimming in Queen Anne's lace and tall yellow wildflowers (which could be Heliopsis, Helianthus, Compass Plant, Cup Plant, or some other blossom of the prolific Aster family), with a rusty, photogenic fence running through them. (Okay, one more photo.)

Ooh, windmills looming over a cornfield...

...and providing a backdrop for grapevine-covered, weathered fenceposts:

Buckle down! (I tell myself.) I manage to make it about 7 miles before stopping to snap a feed mill:

Since I've stopped, I may as well indulge myself in a nice textural shot. (The slippery photographic slope.)

A few miles further on, these horses (belonging to a large and well-to-do Amish farm) simply beg to be photographed. One more picture can't hurt:

And a few miles on, I pass several more horses. Isn't this one lovely? (Blond mane blowing in the wind.)

Its companions cluster up to the fence when I speak to them, and busy themselves with chomping on the grapevines while listening to my blandishments. Positively the last photo!

(I remind myself of the story "Cookies", by Arnold Lobel. A classic if ever there was one.)

But it really is the last photo, for I'm getting hungry. Just a few miles to go, and I'll be home where the food is. I really need to start bringing a snack on these long rides.

A fantastic ride, with gorgeous, perfect weather (despite the headwind). Riding is so much easier at moderate temperatures.

41.3 miles

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