Golden Hour


The morning attempt at getting out in the cool of the day didn’t work out.  Sometimes that happens.


Fortunately, early evening provided a second opportunity.

I had an hour for an out-n-back on my most local gravel road.  I shared it with the raging cicadas, wispy clouds, and some deer in the low-land shades, and I made cartoonish looking shadows in the road.


I watched the sunset from a ridgetop as it turned the grasstips to gold.

On the way back, I saw a raccoon family presumably shaking the sleep from their eyes and marching to breakfast.  When I dropped into the trees lining Clear Creek, neon green flashing spots of lightening bugs (fireflies, if you aren’t from around here) speckled the darkness.

Near the end, I turned back and saw the last of another blazing hot Texas summer day crawling over the western horizon.


Summer Music


Some people enjoy listening to music while bicycling.  So do I.



  • steady rhythm of breathing
  • bird song melody
  • castanet clatter of cicadas
  • snap, crackle, pop of tires on gravel
  • hot tar stickiness of tires on a pavement
  • rattling, swishing of leaves in trees
  • throaty bass of an idling tractor
  • orchestral complexity of every sound together



  • steady roar like a never ending wave crash
  • hat band ends and shirt sleeves snapping and popping like a cracking bullwhip
  • and almost nothing else


I don’t bring it with me.  I don’t wire it to my ears.  It’s out there, and I ride right through it.