When I arrived home early after having missed the connection for a group ride, Mr. Diarist suggested that he and I go for a cycle together. (These trails are a bit effete for Mr. D’s mountain bike; fortunately, it’s a good sport and was willing to come along anyway.)
This is most unusual; Mr. Diarist is embroiled in a huge project and generally chained to his desk 24/7 these days, so I jumped at the chance.
In the country, spring was bustin’ out all over, with green stuff beginning to peek through winter’s debris.
We rode under the bluest sky.
Love those rock formations: Pennsylvania’s share of the earth’s crust is always awe-inspiring.
The creeks are still shallow, and very clear.
Basil and his sibling mountain bike posed, dappled, under some evergreens, and then we headed back home.
But not without capturing a few wildflowers along the way.
And daffodils, naturally, who are always among the first of spring’s volunteers.
Mr. Diarist captured this photo of a post-winter tree in a park we passed through
and these buds, too.
So the re-awakening begins . . . now that I’m acclimated to winter riding, though, I wonder if I’ll miss the cold, crisp air of the previous months. We’ll see. And if I do? Well, that’s the wonderful thing about seasons, isn’t it? The next one is always just around the corner!