Two Wheel Tuesday: Cold Sink

"Cold-hearted orb that rules the night

Removes the colours from our sight

Red is grey is yellow white..."

The owls again. I have always envisioned birds of prey perched higher up, for the view. But these owls seem to prefer the ground. There were in the dirt road again but also, this time, in a section of trail - right in the middle. Twice my headlight caught them, just sitting there, nonchalant and unconcerned. I figured they would fly up and away well before I reached their resting spot. But no, instead I rode closer, right to the point I need to decide whether to slam on the brakes, or swerve. 

In some cultures hearing an owl call is an omen doom and distress. These ones, for a second consecutive week did not make a sound which, I guess, is a good sign.

I did find the first cold sink of the season. There has been no need for extra clothing yet this year, so that spot where the temperature dips ten, maybe fifteen degrees, was kind of shocking. Do those things move, being pushed around by the air currents? I am not so keen on discovering that they are actually someone's wandering recently departed, but am kind of intrigued by attempting to follow the movement of one, enveloped by the chill.

As has been typical so far this Autumn, there are many riders, beside those who are a part of the brewery group, out and about in the black. Small groups and soloists dotted the hill and hollow trails, sometimes casting, sometimes forming silhouettes in beams of light of their own making or their fellow riders.

And what is between riders two and three there - that strangely ill-defined form? A cold sink? Spooky thoughts for a spooky season.