The sky is thick with clouds. As I pedal through my neighborhood I notice that we're not to the thick, ever-present, soul-crushing, uniform dark grey of winter. No, it's more like a painter has carefully brushed the sky with different shades of grey. And every once in a while, barely peeking through the lightest of the grey clouds, there is blue. A remembrance of summer, of long days and long rides, the hint of blue reminds me that it is still Fall.
As do the leaves and as I wind my way through the bike streets I crush them under my bicycle tires. Many of the trees in my neighborhood have lost all of their leaves, some are nearly there. Others are holding on to their brown, orange and yellow leaves tenaciously and a few even still have green leaves.
As I pass Pho Van I think of my ride there earlier today. When I called to order my favorite pho ga the waitress said, "For Sara, right?" Riding home from their I was so excited about my chicken noodle soup that I started to sing, "I've got pho in my bicycle basket! Tra la la la la!"
I don't have too much time to ride today and I'm still being careful with my back so I'm on my way to Tabor. As I begin to climb I'm reminded of my last month of very little riding. Between resting my back, my husband's accident, and getting sick I haven't really done much climbing. I can feel it as I get to the steep section and you know what, it feels great! What a wonderful feeling to really have to push yourself to get to the top.
I round the top, passing a man with a golf club in his hand. Weird...I give him a wide berth. I carefully make my way down the mountain and through the bike streets home...the whole way relishing those little bits of blue. And, hoping that they stick around just a little bit longer before we are really in the depths of winter.
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