Monday (Soft Day) Blues

 

Ah, it twas indeed a soft day. A soft gray May day. A low cloud day. A drizzly, dripping from the brim of your cap day. A day when the only blue to be seen was when I looked down at my front wheel. A day that drew out the colors of the earth, explosions of color from wildflower blossoms, swaths of color in the river bottom. A day of homeless addicts belligerently walking down the middle of the bike path. A day of birds singing their pleasure at the change in the air. A day of musky scent waving up from the wet ground. A day of dodging furniture cluttering the bike path. A day to pause and listen to the river roll over the rocks below. A day to stop listening to the river when a line of wannabe street racers in their loud motors roll past on the highway.

There are certain months of the year when you know what you are going to get. August is one of those months. May, on the other hand, is unpredictable. A day by day month. A wait and see, play it by ear month. The kind of month when you've got to be willing, got to be okay with, getting a little wet when the day ends up being a soft one.

The Monday Blues has been an occasional feature here at the blog since inception; the blues, an emotion, a color, a genre of music, with a cycling twist.