Cycling at 93°

The road exhales heat like a slow-breathing dragon

Trees let fall a benison of shade

Changeable winds blow hot and cold

and carry birdsong sweet as spring

I settle into a steady rhythm

and follow my shadow

towards the curtained coolness of home

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If John Denver Had Been a Cyclist Living in Wisconsin...

...one of his songs might have gone something like this:

Almost springtime, Mid-Wisconsin

Sound of birdsong, swiftly-melting snowpack

Life is new here, waking up the trees

Calling to the cyclists, "Ride! You will not freeze!"

Bumpy roads, take me home

To the place I belong

Mid-Wisconsin, cycling blogger

Take me home, bumpy roads

All my longing centers on her
Vintage road bike, sleeping through the winter
Crochet turtle hanging from the bars
Lord, I get so tired of travelling in cars

Bumpy roads, take me home

To the place I belong

Mid-Wisconsin, cycling blogger

Take me home, bumpy roads

The sun is warm, and the wind is soft upon me

Water flows and gurgles through the fields by my side

Winter's long and grey, but on such a bright March day

I will ride, I will ride

Bumpy roads, take me home

To the place I belong

Mid-Wisconsin, cycling blogger

Take me home, bumpy roads

Take me home, bumpy roads

Take me home, down bumpy roads

(A fond parody of Take Me Home, Country Roads by Bill Danoff, John Denver, and Taffy Nivert Danoff)

~

Last Thursday we had half a warm day, which Tallulah and I celebrated with a ride.

A few days of rain combined with above-freezing temps was causing a very accelerated snowmelt and plenty of local flooding:

Water literally poured out of sloping fields, filling the ditches, rushing under (and in some places over) the roads:

Not all the snow had melted. There were still plenty of piles like this to be seen:

Marshy areas had turned into lakes:

No fear of trespassers here:

(Look at the red-twig dogwood in the background. So beautiful!)

Swarms of geese were whirling and swirling on the horizon, and flying high overhead:

Songbirds filled the air with gladness:

And we heard sandhill cranes!

Tallulah and I were so happy to be back on the road, we couldn't help singing too. Here's a wobbly (and somewhat breathless) recording of us working on the lyric to our Country Roads adaptation / parody:

(Tallulah's voice was drowned out by the wind, but the birds in the background can be heard clearly. Go figure.)

By Thursday night, temperatures were back in the low 30s. I took another short ride on Saturday, and nearly froze my ears off in the 25F wind chill (no photos of that ride, I'm afraid, as I had left my camera at work).

Now the temps are creeping slowly upwards again, which means more rides to come. I can hardly wait.

Happy Almost Spring!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

First of December

Bare branches against an

iron-grey sky

Skim of ice on the

shivering lake

Lights in the park and

snow on my cheeks

Winter, putting out feelers

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Tandem

~ ~ ~

Cheap thrills for cyclists

Passing a one-horse buggy

or a slow tractor

~ ~ ~

Evening ride

Sunset behind me

Racing my shadow home

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For Swallows, read Summer....

~ ~ ~

Swallows on a wire

are you making winter plans?

Please don't leave too soon

~ ~ ~

Riding on a Tuesday in June

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Windy-blue

green-leafed

blossom-tossed

bird-hymned

honey-scented

pine-spiced

frog-puddled

quail-ruffled

gosling-waddled

glad-hearted

heaven-seeming

day

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This poem turned out to be an unintentional nod to Gerard Manley Hopkins (who would have made a much better job of it)

~ ~ ~

Sunny, Hot, and Hilly Ride

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Trees leafing out as though they mean it
Honeysuckle's pale pink torches
Warm sun beating down on my back

~ ~ ~

Sunday is clear and sunny, and actually hot - perfect weather for a Memorial Day weekend. There's just enough breeze to set the trees whispering in voices that have returned with the spring.

A few miles out of town, dark branches of oak are frilled with bright yellow-green:

Though spring was late in coming, wildflowers are taking advantage of the warmth and making up for lost time. Dame's Rocket is just beginning to bloom....

The pale pink torches of honeysuckle are lighting up the hedges and sending drifts of sweetness through the air:

I stop for a photo of fresh new maple (what was I thinking?) pin oak leaves:

At my feet are blooming the first meadow anemone and wild geranium:

Several feet away is this rather alien-looking mystery plant:

Is it a fern or a wildflower-to-be? Hard to say.

I am treating myself to a long leisurely ride that includes all the hilliest roads I can think of. A few miles on, at the top of the first hill, is an apple tree in full bloom:

Mmmmm.

Down the hill, across the valley, and up the next hill, to a farm where every wooden fencepost sports an American flag:

On the next hill, I see the first wild columbines of the year:

(Somehow my leg keeps getting into the photos.)

Many miles on, I pass a field where Highland cattle graze. This one watches calmly as I take its photo:

(At least I think it's watching - hard to tell whether its eyes are open or shut behind that shaggy fringe.)

I've been riding on the high prairie for some miles now, out in the sun and wind. I really need to stop for a snack, but would prefer to eat in the shade. I pull off the road, where a lane leads to an empty field, and look around me for a likely spot. Ahead and behind are the open road; to my left are some shady trees. And when I look back towards the field, I see that it's no longer empty:

A young deer has wandered into the open and is staring at me. I slowly reach for the camera and even more slowly take a few photos...

...until the deer decides it's seen enough and turns to spring away.

The lane is damp, with too many buzzing bugs for me to linger, so I cross the road and eat my snack in the shade of a large tree.

The bank below is brown with last year's leaves and acorns, and green with grass and False Solomon's Seal:

I finish my snack, get back on the bike, and just a few hundred yards up the road see this:

Wouldn't you like to go through the gate and follow the trail between the trees? I know I would.

All this time Tallulah has been content to stay in her basket. She doesn't want to pose on the gate or climb onto any flowers.

"Why so timid today, Tallulah?" I ask.

"I'm still a bit shell-shocked from the accident," she replies.

(I never know if Tallulah's puns are intentional or not; she produces them with such a straight face.)

Portrait of Tallulah with shadow shot of me:

Miles later, having climbed all our hills, we take one last photo - of flowering crab in glorious bloom along the side of our road home:

A beautiful ride on a hot Spring day.

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Pleasant Saturday Ride

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Willows waving golden streamers
Water on a wind-parched throat
Leaf buds lacy against the sky

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The week began with this...

...and ended with this:

Spring in Wisconsin. Gotta love it. :)

Saturday is warm and lovely, with temps in the giddy 60s, and a gusty wind blowing from the south. Birds twitter happily from the trees and chase each other over the fields. The song of the frogs is no longer tentative, but loud and confident. It's a perfect day to be out on Iris (my bike) with Tallulah the Turtle (my riding partner).

A windmill peeks from behind this barn:

(See that green stuff on the ground? The grass is growing! Hooray!)

A robin tries (unsuccessfully) to hide in the brush:

What is it about lonely trees in fields? I always want to take their picture, and this one is no exception:

At the favourite willowy curve, the willow-fronds are blown nearly sideways by the wind. They're even brighter than they were last week:

We climb some hills and descend some others. I ponder potential crochet designs, and enjoy the freedom and solitude of the road. Ducks fly up from streams as we pass, and a cardinal flashes across the road. The sun is warm on my back, and water slides like a cool blessing down my dry throat.

Tallulah rides silently, her turtle nose turned upwards.

"Why so quiet, Tallulah?" I ask. "You've hardly said a word the entire ride."

"I'm looking at that blue, blue sky," she says dreamily. "I think I can finally see spring."

A very pleasant ride.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two Short Rides

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chickadees whistling "Still here, still here"
Marsh frogs chirping tentative songs
Dogwood glowing red in the sun

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Spring is no longer behaving like a timid guest who peeps around the corners of doors before retreating shyly to her room. Now she's walking around with confidence as though she intends to stay a while. Last weekend was warm and dry enough (hooray!) for me to squeeze in two short rides.

Saturday's ride is gloriously sunny, though a chilly wind is freezing my fingers and tickling the marshes. They don't seem to mind, but sparkle happily and reflect back the blue of the spring sky:

Wild geese step daintily away from the verge as I approach:

Today's ride is a short out-and-back. Here's the same marsh from the opposite direction:

A few frogs chirp as I pass, sounding uncertain whether to continue or to go back to sleep. (Stay awake, guys - it's getting warmer every day!)

And a few miles later I'm home. A good brisk pipe-opener squeezed in between Saturday housework and a movie date with friends.

~ ~ ~

Sunday I have a little more time to spare, so the ride is slightly longer. The weather is warmer today, but overcast - not so good for photos.

Blurry self-portrait, or, Cyclist with Turtle:

A favourite willowy corner:

The willows are fairly glowing right now with golden-green shoots streaming down to the dark water.

I pass buff-coloured fields and leafless woods. I see clumps of bare lilac and the ghosts of last year's Queen Anne's Lace. It's hard to believe that in a few months all will be green and lush.

One last shot of a favourite marshy bend:

Some ice remains on the water, but it's shrinking and will soon be gone. There's a new nest in that tall tree to left of center, and dogwood glows rosily on the far bank.

Make yourself at home, Spring. We are so glad to have you. :)

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One Warm Day

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They say the year begins

on January 1st

but for me

this is the real New Year....

New year

new season

new miles

new joys

New hills

new valleys

new beauties

new roads

New skies

new clouds

new flowers

new trees

New thoughts

new breezes

new challenges

new thrills

One warm day

one short ride

and the year unrolls before me

like a song just waiting

to be sung

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