Stranger Things

Not really sure where it came from, and can't really explain why these things pop in and out sometimes, but somewhere out there during the morning ride, I started whistling the theme song to Dennis the Menace. If you were riding along Mountain Ave, and thought you heard something like that coming from down the slope... it was me, I freely admit. It might have been kind of strange.

That quail might have thought it kind of strange, assuming a quail could think such things, as it watched me climb the boulders lining the creekside to get back to where my bike was still parked. It was kind of strange that it grew increasingly foggy as the morning progressed. There was nothing up canyon, the upper slopes dissolved, the peaks melted into the whiteness.

the Great White of the Wash

So much is overgrown right now. Descending what I call the Buckwheat Trail created a wreath of yellow and green wrapping around my brake rotor, the hub and through the spokes of my rear wheel. Another few hundred yards along it was the mustards' turn to clog my drivetrain; not once, but twice did I have to stop to clear stems and such. I watched ducks swimming lazily, one mother shepherding her new brood. I watched small birds by the dozens flapping frantically to and fro, working hard for their breakfast. I couldn't see the insects they were pursuing, but they must have been plentiful. Sunday mornings should all be so good.

the "lake" has been reduced to a lazy river

hideaway

deferred maintenance: this service road is barely passable, even by bike

new family

wheeling and diving