Golden Hour

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

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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.

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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.

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Summer Music

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

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Tailwind

  • 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

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Headwind

  • 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

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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.

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