Spinning Wheels

I ride daily now, or just about. Fresh gravel has been spread on the steeper hills, and riding ascents are nearly impossible. I dismount and push, and consider moving to paved (and busier) roads.

Other considerations: a potentially BIG posting on WP re: the nature of memory, its interaction with the physical geography of childhood and "home." The plasticity of memory is often lamented, but it can be a beneficial characteristic as well.

As I mull over all this, an old Paul Simon chorus keeps coming to mind:

If you'll be my bodyguard
I can be your long lost pal
I can call you Betty
And Betty when you call me
You can call me Al

Best to keep spinning until there's some direction for me to proceed with this.

Haying Time

Heavy rains, followed by long sunny days = Time to be haying.

Bad Either Way

This hill's grade probably isn't any steeper than eight degrees, but it's nasty to ride either way. Down there's always the worry of fresh gravel (the township seems to add it weekly); up, well ... kinda self-explanatory.

Today's Excitement

Shortly before noon we heard an enormous commotion we very much hoped was happening on someone else's yard. Alas, the yard was ours.





Bow-saw out, and busy.

Missed Photo

I finally pedaled round to where I missed my spectacular shot. Here it is, sans clouds.



It's been unseasonably hot: 30 C, not including the humidex. The wind is from the north(!), keeping the clouds away. It's all very unsettling, but you might as well spin while the sun shines.

The May Two-Four Weekend

I removed the bald tires and put the grippers back on. I feel more confidence when I ride downhill on dirt, probably not at all commensurate to any appreciable difference in traction.

I kicked myself for not bringing the camera along the other day, when I barreled down into a lovely marshland view. The hills to the west held a small copse of pine trees, with a few fluffy clouds providing some pleasant contrast to the blue sky and green foliage.

I wasn't able to get that far today, so you get this shot instead. A sweltering Monday, on the May Two-Four Weekend (W).

Clipless Pedals

I allowed myself to be cajoled into a set of clipless pedals this spring (the brand name escapes me, for the moment, but they're your standard egg-beaters). I took the Jake inside and put it back on the trainer, where I spent an hour or so fiddling with cleat adjustment. Once I was comfortable and had some confidence in my technique, I took the bike for a spin. Once again, actual riding revealed that my cleat placement needed further attention.

Also: no matter how much you practice releasing yourself from those nifty pedals, when it's crisis time you'll still be caught off guard. Or maybe you won't, but I certainly was. My sister visiting from Ottawa was there to see it all happen. As were the occupants of a van, two cars, a dirt bike and an ATV. I figured it was best to let everybody clear the intersection before I took the corner, so I unhooked my right foot and set it down. Unfortunately, as the traffic slowly moved by my balance shifted to my left foot which was still hooked into its pedal. "It was kind of like watching it in slow-motion," said my sister.



It's been three weeks now, and the scab has finally come off. I can't believe children weather skinned knees with such a complete lack of concern -- mine was inconveniencing me at the strangest times, with considerable discomfort. I've probably learned a lesson or two, but I'm not yet sure whether they relate to clip-less pedals. I understand that once everything is adjusted to perfection you can't beat their utility. But for now my personal jury is still out: I still miss shifting my feet around, inefficient though that "freedom" might be.

W&W Comments Policy

I apologize for the iron hand approach, but I'm subjecting all comments to my personal approval, because this blog is getting walloped with off-shore weirdness. But don't let that dissuade you from saying something pertinent. If it's worth saying, it's worth posting.

Second Ride of Spring

Only 30 minutes' worth, both days. I meant to take the camera, for footage of the spring run-off, in memory of my grandfather. He loved to get in the car and drive out to ditches where the run-off was especially spectacular. Any shots I might have taken the last few days would have been a joke: pleasant, burbling streams that wouldn't cause so much as a booter for an intrepid seven-year-old.

The run-off we had in Manitoba was of a very different caliber. Every few years, some farmer's kid gets swept away and drowns in a ditch. I can remember pulling on my Wellies and joining friends in the fields when I was 13, and getting scared spitless -- this at an age when nothing puts fear into you.

Not in this part of the world. We have other natural threats, I guess.

Stained Glass

The windows on the south wall were brilliant yesterday, so I ran home and got the camera.





The north windows miss the sunshine, but made for better exposure:



The quilt to the right is actually older than the building. Each square is embroidered with the family names of the original Methodist (now United) congregation.



With some closer attention I could have taken better pictures, but there's only so much "tech" fiddlin' I care to do whilst parishioners file in to worship.