Getting Back on the Horse (well, Bicycle)

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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