Move over, Henry–

I swear there must be a little Thoreau blood in me somewhere.

If you could use a couple of minutes of simple peace and quiet in the middle of your day’s work today, possibly the attached video I captured last evening can help.

Friend Cheryl and I are addicted to the bike trail. We rode for 11 miles late yesterday afternoon and didn’t want it to end.

We like to head north because that takes us away from the busier parts of the trail; it gets us out into farm country where the roads are dusty, we can hear roosters crowing and an occasional boarded up, clapboard building makes our imaginations wonder what its whole story is.

Those environs are my favorite places to collect words and ideas. The trail is also a great place to work out any angst, whether it’s over novel or article writing, or something that someone else is, or isn’t, doing that is causing your blood pressure to rise.

I’ve been back to riding for two months now. The jeans are looser, the muscles are tightening up and the needle on the scale is heading south.  Cheryl and I expect to ride until the snow dictates otherwise.

The only thing missing on Otter Creek last evening, was a few deer coming to drink. Maybe next time—

Author Note: No jokes about my Blair Witch Project-style video shooting, okay?

 

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