Hooray for the fall (fall back!) time change! There was a extra hour of daylight in which to ride!
At 6 am it was 30 degrees F. The sky was clear and the air calm.
So last night planned the route: High Cross to Ford Harris and back on Lincoln. The prairie is my first love, but today wanted to see trees. Prepared myself for limiting photos: fall colors tend to make one crazy with picture-lust!
And so Rhododendron and I went: east on Main. First stop was the little grove of oaks across from the Dart (formerly Solo Cup) plant,
The bones do get fewer and farther between as time goes by. Also interesting is how the trash around them changes. I really wonder how it gets there–seems like not the most convenient place to dump things. The autumn leaves were a nice touch.
The light coming up on the yellow and red leaves was thrilling.
Smelled leaves burning, which I don’t mind as long as it’s faint and distant.
In places the colors were too intense for a good photo.
Then amid being caught up in the fall colors was surprised to hear dogs barking and see them run toward me! 😦 Seriously considered turning back! But gathered courage to press on to Ford Harris. Really pumped those pedals; reminded me I haven’t been out as much as I used to. Fortunately the dogs did not join me on the road!
Turned south on Willow rather than Lincoln, as planned, but was glad thereby to see an old marker (a farm 100 years in the same family, as of 1972) in front of this barn. Not sure it was working but did see a cat in one of the windows. br />
All the primary colors (leaves and sky) about the landscape were downright exciting!
Knew, of course, that the trees would soon be bare and somber, but did strive to stay in the eternal moment as it was. Every year we get this lesson: loss is inevitable, but first, so much life! Bitter-sweet autumn!
Headed south on North Lincoln, where there are various kinds of recycling facilities and big piles of crushed concrete, and the Saline Ditch runs through it all.
Just seems like a place where unsavory things could easily be discarded or hidden. Made me think (ok, it’s a stretch) of Jimmy Hoffa, (the movie about whose life was shot very close to where I grew up in Chicago, and for which my dad was an extra). But old stuff has to be dealt with somewhere, and I’m glad some of it does go back into service in the world instead of just being landfill.
Was glad not to miss the peak of the fall colors north of town!