May 2026 – Nomadic Noesis

On Today’s Bike Ride: Unexpected Reward

Sign by trail "Welcome to Hindman Junction, where the MKT Trail meets Katy Trail State Park."

This morning, the spouse and I rode our bicycles out to where the MKT Trail and Katy Trail meet, otherwise known as Hindman Junction, after a former mayor who played a large role in getting the trails system developed.

I had been considering turning around at an earlier point, but the bench I had in mind was occupied. We did stop there for a couple of minutes because one of the two occupants was a coworker of mine. So we chatted briefly and pressed on.

And as an unexpected reward for our efforts, nature treated us to mulberries. Some were even ripe enough to eat.

Those and the cereal bar I packed along fueled me up for the return journey. Don’t worry. We left plenty of berries for other travelers.

On Today’s Bike Ride: the Wind Connects Us

The older I get, the more I could turn this blog into an obituary column. Yesterday, I drove a four-hour round trip for the funeral of my sister, who passed away unexpectedly a couple of weeks ago.

She was 12 and 1/2 years older and often took care of me. When I was sad, she would put her arms around me and sing the song “Big Girls Don’t Cry.” Or at least parts of it. Too bad she’s not here to sing it now, because I’m very sad.

But going outside and moving always helps. So I got on my bicycle this morning and took one of my favorite trail rides to a small, local lake.

It was a bit windy for bicycling. But instead of seeing it as an adversary, I celebrated the wind as a connecting force. The same wind rippling the water, bending the grass blades, making tree leaves dance, a co-navigator for the birds, blowing across everyone outdoors and rattling the windows of all the folks indoors. Nothing like wind to remind us how each piece is a part of the whole.

These ruminations remind me of a poem about loss that rings true for me.

To One Dead
by Max Bodenheim

I walked upon a hill
And the wind, made solemnly drunk with your presence,
Reeled against me.
I stooped to question a flower,
And you floated between my fingers and the petals,
Tying them together.
I severed a leaf from its tree
And a water-drop in the green flagon
Cupped a hunted bit of your smile.
All things about me were steeped in your remembrance
And shivering as they tried to tell me of it.

Mother’s Day Bike Ride and a Robin

I have heard from both of my kids on Mother’s Day, one from halfway across the country and the other from the next room. I’ve also exchanged greetings with other mothers I know because we lift each other up. I’m so fortunate to have that.

The spouse and I took a bike ride this morning. Mother Nature supplied amazing weather plus a field full of buttercups.

Crushed limestone trail with green trees and green grass. — MKT Trail near the Hinkson Bridge

Green field with large patches of yellow buttercups. Trees in background. — MKT Trail near the Hinkson Bridge

On a separate Mother’s Day note, we are celebrating the hatching of three baby robins in a nest under our carport. It sits atop an electrical box attached to our storage shed. She was not in the nest when I snapped this photo, but we have named the mother robin “Barb.” Hubs and I both apologize every time we make a noise that alarms her.

Robin's nest built on top of electrical box attached to red corrugated sheet metal. — Robin’s nest under our carport

“Sorry, Barb,” we say several times a day. Judging by the amount of scolding we receive, I don’t think she understands that we are cheering on her little family.

I hope the day has been meaningful for you, dear readers.