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.
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.
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.
MKT Trail near the Hinkson BridgeField of buttercups. A zoomed in view of buttercupsAn even zoomed-er in look at the buttercups
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 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.
I’m trying to get out on my bicycle at least a little every weekend, even when I don’t have a great deal of time. Today’s ride wasn’t all that long, but I got to see some barn swallow babies at a shelter house.
After a brutal, snowy winter followed by an exceptionally wet spring, Freida and I are hitting the trails again. I was able to add a new experience to my new experiences list today thanks to the city adding a new section of trail into the network.
The Perche Creek Trail branches off from the MKT and eventually will extend to allow easy travel.
Oh, look! One of my favorite things–a bridge!
Scan the QR code to learn more. Phase 2 is scheduled to be complete in 2027.
Anticipated opening of phase 2, Fall, 2027.
But for now, if you don’t want to lift your bicycle over a guardrail and continue on the road (which I know people have and do), it’s kind of a dead end.
But it’s a pleasant ride, and I got to see a blue heron.
Pondering
I hope to get out for a ride at least once a week and build my stamina back up. Today’s ride was 13-14 miles or so roundtrip. Not too bad. Here’s to more pedaling adventures!
There are a couple of quick and easy routes from my house to the trail where I often ride my bike. Getting back home, however, requires an arduous climb coming back off the trail, either way I go. One is a shorter distance, but a steeper slope. That’s the one I took coming home today.
It’s only a block, but more vertical than I would choose. I have never yet had to get off and push the bike, but I do shift down into the very lowest gear. The saving grace to this stretch is that there’s usually little traffic, making it easy to ride in a switchback pattern. Today, however, people were getting in my way with their cars. I was forced to grind it out straight up the hill.
75% of the way, I questioned whether I would actually make it to the top, but I focused on each pedal stroke. One more and then one more and then one more. I made it! Not only that, but when I looked at my gear shifts, I discovered they weren’t on the very lowest setting. I had put them into the second lowest setting.
Whoa! I’m stronger than I thought!
I’m going to hold onto this thought as a truth. I’m stronger than I realize, and I’m accomplishing more than I give myself credit for. Even when stuff is hard, I can hang on.
You know what else is hanging on? These trees.
Their roots are all exposed on one side where the ground is eroded and slants down to the trail. But they still seem firmly anchored, holding on strongly on the other side. Hang in there, trees! You’re doing great!
I found them along the Hinkson Creek Trail, a different ride than Freida and I usually take. We had a nice, peaceful time of it, encountering few other humans today.
Wayfinding
Stopping to rest in and take in the ambiance of nature.
Freida taking a little rest
Hang in there everyone. You’re strong than you think and accomplishing more than you give yourself credit for.
This week is feeling particularly alternative universe to me, of the dystopian variety in many ways. How could we have time looped back four years and be reliving the nightmare?
On top of that, I received a text alert this morning as I was leaving my house for work telling me not to show up because there was a fire at the building. WHAT? Fortunately, it was small and quickly extinguished. Unfortunately, it was in one of the air handlers of our HVAC system, so that distributed the smoke pretty well throughout the structure, requiring some mitigation.
Bright side – it was a gorgeous fall day with temperatures in the upper 50s. My favorite weather. Might as well take advantage of the surprise day off to get Freida out of the shed and hit the trail, away from news and worries and automotive traffic…
A truck was present, driving down the trail.
Okay, trucks on the trail today. I understand it’s for good reason, just unusual.
Still had a pretty good ride and enjoyed the views.
Thank you, the Schmidt family, for this comfy bench!
Things seemed comfortingly normal and natural until I checked for the temperature on my phone screen and saw some news headlines:
Uh, yeah, we’ve slipped into an alternate universe.
Today I told my husband I was going on a short bike ride and then didn’t come back for three hours. I didn’t know how much activity I could manage because I woke up with allergy symptoms and a headache. But thanks to OTC medicines and suddenly mild weather, I felt pretty good after I’d been pedaling a short while.
I felt so good, I kept going and made a half day of it, stopping occasionally for water/snack/photo breaks. In fact, I set a new personal record for miles ridden in one day with a 24-mile round trip.
Freida and I made a friend along the way.
Skink investigating.
Curious five-lined skink gets to know Freida
In my quest to have new experiences, I explored a part of the Katy Trail I’d never been down before. It was a lovely, mostly level, mostly shady stretch.
Trailhead / reststop on the Katy TrailPerche Creek
One highlight was when I saw a couple of eagles flying circles in the sky. But I only had my phone camera and couldn’t capture an image.
For many years, I never had the time for this kind of excursion, certainly not to be made on the spur of the moment. I try not to take it for granted.
I achieved my bicycling goal of making it all the way to the nearly 400-year-old bur oak, the one my husband visits every weekend. That’s about a 22-mile round trip. I’ve been working on building my cycling stamina, riding a little farther each outing. Today, I just kept going until I was there. The hubs was kind enough to slow his pace so I could keep up. Then I left for home earlier than he did.
I will admit the last three to four miles of the return trip were a struggle. I imagined myself the subject of one of those old times folk ballads about a person on an arduous journey who makes it through all sorts of hazards, only to drop dead within sight of their destination. But instead, I’m here at my keyboard, writing my own story.
We are in a two-day lull between brutal heat waves, so I seized the day and took a little bike ride this morning. I made a brief stop near a creek to drink some water (from my water bottle, not the creek) and heard an unmistakable sound, the first one in this video.
I’m not well acquainted with many birdcalls, but I do recognize a chickadee when I hear one. Has a more adorable looking bird ever existed? When I was pregnant with my second child, I started calling my baby Chickadee as a placeholder name until he was born. I don’t remember the reason I latched onto this particular nickname, but my fondness for the little critters remains.
I looked up when I heard the call. Aha!
Black capped chickadee in oak tree.
I choose to believe it was calling out “Happy Juneteenth” in its own way.
Nomadic Noesis 