Thin Ice

barely there: new ice

In November, my biking plans are tenuous. In addition to the usual kid logistics (who needs an after-school ride where?), questions of cold weather and personal toughness (usually nil) must now be considered. What predictions have the shaman meteorologists offered? Has any actual precipitation materialized? Is the trail wet enough to leave mud spatters on my back? On arrival, will my fingers be numb, my clothes soaked, my nose running? It's a judgement call, usually made at the last minute.

Let's be clear: I'm no hard-core cyclist, far from it. I won't be joining the admirable waterproofed warriors in their technical layers, riding through Canadian winters come what may, but I might be edging just slightly in their direction. Last weekend, when Tim was putting the bikes in storage for the season, I asked him to leave mine out. We could still have good biking weather, I said. And yesterday, we did. So I seized the brilliant day--4 degrees C (39 F), windy, sunshine, snow patches in the grass, new ice cross-hatching the surface of ponds and ditches--and landed at work happy.  

The thing about biking is, it makes you feel twelve again. And unhooked from the schedule long enough to stop and take a picture.