This morning, by the time I found the right tools to adjust Discovery II’s brakes (now they were too tight and bound the back wheel) and made trip back home for the forgotten phone, it was 7:15, 57 degrees F, and foggy.
Stopped at “my ” bare apple tree, just to note the location of the squirrel nests.
Stopped at the “mushroom ” spruce grove, which made a nice seasonal picture.
It was nice to ride in the mild air, with safe but not binding brakes, through a blanket of fog that softened the edges of everything. Made me think of my doubts and difficulties being softened by some virtual, buffering fog-why not?
Still, color, and the energy it brings, did not abound.
Rode to Meadowbrook Park to see how the late fall was becoming winter on the prairie.
Color or no, I don’t actually like these lights. They disrupt my beloved little patterns. Wow–how much emotion they trigger! Laughed at myself over this consternation.
At Meadowbrook Park, the “wonky Christmas tree” seemed to slouch through the fog.
–a little more color–and remains of goldenrod seed heads bent before fog-shrouded bare trees.
McCullough and Davis creeks were high and the banks quite clear of growth and brown.
Rode through the fog without stopping until I saw (at last!) Baptisia pods, which have been so scarce this year.
And these were a modest example.
Again thought of the concept of Pratyahara, and of resting from activity, from active growth. This time of outward desolation can be one of inner rebuilding, of as yet unrealized possibility.
And no matter how “dreary ” it may be, I think it’s always nicer (and am glad I did) to go out and meet the weather than to stay in and avoid it.