My bicycle has a mind

“On the road again…I just can’t wait to get on the road again…”

Cold, wet winter months are not my fave! You see, I get stuck in the garage until spring’s sunny skies. Mind you, I am thankful that I’m not out in the muck; after all I’m pretty cute.

I have graceful citrus-yellow curves with just-shy-of-neon green wheels and, naturally, jaunty tulips tatted on my sides – I just scream, “Cruise me down to the coffee shop!” I must have garage-fever right now, being cooped up doesn’t really suit my playfulness.

Oh, I remember tripping along the bumpy path with my trusty passenger pedaling away at a lighthearted pace. She chatted freely with her beau, sigh…those were the days. I think she feels it too; wandering out and looking wistfully at me, recalling blue skies, trilling birds and rides to the park.

Was this all a lovely, surreal dream or did it actually occur in the distant sun-drenched past? Only the marching on of the seasons will reveal reality.

“Sunshine on my shoulder makes me happy…”

This little spoof echoes what many of us are feeling as winter lingers, just slightly confined to the garage. My question is does it affect only your outdoor activities or are you restricted in your mind?

As I am writing this blog, I find that I am somewhat blocked; thoughts are just not flowing as freely as I prefer. It’s almost as if the pipes in my brain are frozen, or at least slushy. How do we pump verve back into the frosted tundra of our hibernating winter selves?

Talking with my bicycle ~ Missy

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Comments

road tripping: french glen and steens mountain

we took a stinkin' lot of dirt roads, but i wouldn't have it any other way The drive wasn’t long by west coast standards, a mere few of hours; which meant there was plenty of leisure (interpreted coffee time) before leaving on another road trip escapade. I can’t begin to tell you how much fun it is to pack a bag, gas up the car and set out to see what can be seen. An interesting thing I’ve discovered on these exploits, is that having lived in Oregon for the majority of my life, I’ve missed “seeing” a lot of things. You know, I think we all get into the habit of going to the same places, which is a good thing, but we forget about the “other” places that are right in our own backyards. Case in point, yesterday afternoon, when my darling man and I went to Tumalo Falls. I’ve been to Skyliner Snow Park, but never gone the few more dirt road miles to see the falls. Holy cow! Is that lame, or what? a sweet little place, no frills, but plenty of yesteryear

lent, not lint

says it all - the grotto It sticks to your clothes and shows up splendidly on black, it gets caught on the screen in the dryer and socks elaborately decorate your toes with the stuff. Yep, lint: the fuzzy, ravelings of fabric that cling to everything; like Velcro, only different. Lint actually has a purpose. By scraping it from linen it can be made into a soft, fleecy fabric. Cotton staple – lint fibers – are spun into yarn. While all of this is riveting, especially while staring at the lint in your belly-button, there’s more to Lent than its sound doppelganger. lint: fluffy, minute shreds of yarn lent: a season of preparation These two tiny words sound similar in our vernacular, but have massively different implications in our lives. We clean-up lint and toss it in the trash. Lent, however is a prepping time for us to realize we’re not great at cleaning up our own stuff. Lent was originally a season between winter and summer, now called spring. The s

pebbles

strewn pebbles Walking on the path I noticed the pebbles. I stopped and picked one up, holding it in my hand to feel it’s texture. Tiny and smooth, it felt warm from the sun. Continuing on my walk, the way was scattered with pebbles of different shapes and sizes; some flat and polished, others round and craggy with sharp edges that could cut the skin. I considered the meaning, if any. Some had been sanded to perfection by time and wear. Others recently broken and chipped were harsh, ugly to feel and look at. No matter, all were pebbles; that was fact. Missy If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance

Isabella Bird Miscellany

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