Am I recovered enough to ride to work on Mr Red? I can’t help but think that, until the snow comes, it’s probably one of the last pretty Fall days. Already the fields are mighty desolate. Only good light makes them look warm and bucolic.
And speaking of warm and pretty, let me start with a morning look out at the feeding station – the tree the birds love to dine at. It was a “where’s Waldo” moment: a red bird amidst red fruits.
But this morning, the birds are outshined by what finally looks like pure loveliness (in my opinion): the freshly painted (north face of the) farmhouse. Ahhh.... (Or is it especially lovely in the softer morning light?)
Okay, so I bike to work. And because I decided (most likely) to make this the last bike ride in (the distance is too long for me to enjoy a ride on cold days), I take the longer way. Lovely, in a harvested and dry sort of way.
The bumps are a little tough on the ribs still, but still, I am happy to be biking, to be ending the season on a slightly longer ride (twenty miles for the day).
After work, I bike to the café where Ed waits, having worked some on scraping and patching now the east face of the house. It’ll be a while before that’s done, but it doesn’t really matter. When I come home, I enter through the north. Its cheerful yellow is there now to greet me.
Time to go home. In the last quarter mile, I pause. There’s not much to the land now. It’s all in the light. It’s enough. Pretty. To the core.