Another Windy Ride

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Cresting a hill in spite of the wind
Train whistle blowing across the fields
Musical rumble of wind in the pines

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Wind, wind, wind - we can't seem to get away from it. (Even the Three Great Things are permeated with its icy blast.) Am I going to whine about the wind again? Yes, I am. At 20-24 mph, it's utterly dispiriting. All those times last year I nearly fainted from the heat seem like some faraway dream. Will it EVER get warmer? Will the wind ever diminish?

There. It's out of my system for the moment. :)

It snowed Sunday morning - large, cold, damp flakes blowing sideways across the yard - but the weather cleared by the afternoon to overcast skies, temps in the mid-40s, and wind as aforementioned.

Tallulah and I are heading south, then circling around to catch a few of the area's short hills. Our photo breaks are few, as the coldness of the (ahem) wind makes stopping undesirable.

Four favourites in this photo:

Fencepost, field, tree, and that farm in the distance. I love them all, and always pause for photos when I pass this spot.

Tallulah explores the craggy fencepost:

Then we're on our way again. What I see when I look down:

(Sharp-eyed readers who are also cyclists will notice that Iris, my vintage bike, retains her vintage toe clips.)

Many miles on, we reach a favourite marshy lake, the haunt of red-winged blackbirds who fill the air with perpetual song.

Exciting moment: the sun appears, and with it my shadow.

Brrr ... despite the sun, the wind is still very chilly. The next photos, of a handsome barn and silos, are taken from the saddle:

I love the mottled red paint on the barn boards.

Miles more, up the long gradual side of a hill and sharply down the other side, past fields criss-crossed by long straight streams.

Stream with dry grass and red-twig dogwood:

Turtle with stream:

Scrubbed by the wind, the air sparkles beautifully now. One last barn photo...

...then we put our heads down and ride for home. It's getting colder by the minute as the sun sinks into the west.

We come to a railroad crossing. I look hopefully up and down the tracks, but there will be no train photos today. Ten minutes and a few miles later, we hear a train come through, but the tracks are already out of sight. The melancholy whistle floats across the wind, making me long for the warmth of home and hot supper.

A cold and windy ride. Still no leaves on the trees, but there's grass all around, and the birds have obviously decided to stay. If they can stick it, so can I. Perhaps next Sunday will be warmer.

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