It would be better if all that is the evening bicycle ride could be properly conveyed here. Relying on snapshots of a bicycle, no matter how charming, is like conveying the rich, complex taste of a fine coffee by asking someone to touch the outside of the cup. But we are here, aren’t we? So we might as well get on with it.
On a warm, breezy summer evening in rural Denton County, Texas, you can hear the wind blow through the tall grass. In the pastures not yet cut for hay, the tops ebb and flow like waves on Corpus Christi Bay. Where the hay is freshly cut and baled, the scent is earthy and grows stronger or diminishes with the variable breeze. On a warm, breezy summer evening, the orange-pink sky contrasts the green pasture until the light fades and both become a kind of blue-black darkness.
On a warm, breezy summer evening, you can pedal down toward the creek. As you get closer, the trees become denser and forest-like. The cicadas loud song overpowers the rustling of grass and leaves. Riding through a tunnel of trees is disorienting, especially when the horizontal sun beams strobe against your eyes and alternate beam/shade/beam rapidly. Disorienting, yes…but in a delightful, authentic southern moment sort of way.
Finally, there is that other thing that seems all but lost in automoble travel…neighborly interaction. When the sun sets, the temperature takes a notable drop. Then folks come outside to check the garden, feed the goats, or simply sit on the porch for a few minutes. So warm, breezy summer evenings are also a good time to wave and say, “howdy”…or maybe…