Midwinter Ride

First, let me apologize for leaving this blog out in the cold for so long.  I have been busy with my other blog, and as I haven't been riding since the end of October, I haven't had much to blog about here.  I have also been dealing with a few health issues that will be resolved soon, God willing.

So after a several months long hiatus, I got back on the bike again.

Karl has been taking advantage of the unseasonably warmer weather in the last couple weeks to ride to work on nice days.  I have noticed that for Karl, time spent on the bike is good therapy for the winter blahs.  It really does add to his peace of mind when he can get out there and ride.  He rides solo when it's nice but colder.  I gave him a pair of leather chaps for Christmas, and he says the chaps with his fleece lined jeans are great for the colder weather. 

I prefer to ride in weather that is from the mid 50s and higher.  We haven't had any riding days in that range.  Friday evening when Karl got hime from work on the bike, he came in the house and said, "Get your stuff on and let's go!"  I was all over it because it was still above 70.

Of course in Friday rush hour, it took us about a forty minutes to get out of the rat race to really ride, and by that time it was dusk and the street lights were coming on, so we stopped at a closed gas station to put on our reflective vests. 

We don't usually ride at night, and night riding is so different from day riding.  The smells are the same. (Don't skunks hibernate?), but the sights from the bike are only what is illuminated by the lights that come on.  I was thinking about how houses and other things look at night. 

I know that lights are for practicality, but they also highlight things.  When I saw a pile of junk in th light at one house we rode by, I wondered if the people who lived there were aware that they were showcasing their junk pile.  It made me wonder what shows up in the light at my house when it's dark out.  What is hidden and what is laid bare for all to see?

Then I saw an old farmhouse with a single white light in each window.  It was quite picturesque sitting by itself in the farm field with the sunset behind it.  I'm sure the owners of that place had some sense of the scene they had created both for their own enjoyment and for others to see.  There was an orderliness about it.

The sunset from the back of the back of the bike was lovely, in orangey pink hues.  The darker clouds above looking slate gray.  It's more beautiful to see a sunset from an outdoor vantage point than from a window.  There's just something about being outside that makes you a part of it.

We drove down rural roads and through farmlands.  It was full dark by then, and although it was still too early for the moonrise, it was still bright out for that time of day.  I knew we must be one or two days waxing or waning of a full moon.  And there was also the ambient city light in the distance.

At one point in the ride we found ourselves behind another rider there in the dark.  In the daylight, rider's acknowledge one another on the road.  At night they don't.  The dark hides the acknowledgement, so why bother?  After about ten miles, we came to a crossroad.  He went his way and we went ours.
 
We turned toward home, back into streetlights and heavier traffic.  There was a chill in the air, a reminder that it is still February, winter's domain.  Just as we turned onto the main road, we saw the orange moon just over the horizon, peeking through the trees.  As we turned into our neighborhood, we saw it in it's orange fullness.  It had the illusion of looking larger then normal. 

What a perfect way to end a midwinter ride.