Spring Rain

Riding up through the hollow the green around us seemed to breath. There’s a certain vibrancy the leaves take on after an evening spring rain. The green comes alive and huddles all around. As your shoulders brush along branches you don’t just get wet, you get touched.

The sky was like a wound. Everything was gray or some streaked derivative except for the laceration of the sun. A single blood red sliver glowed over the far hillside as we descended down into another valley.

Then it was dark. All was dark. We decided the ride would be sans lights. With the sky healed, there was little to see. Vaguely you could make out patterns in the trail. The lighter background was dirt. Various depths of shadow meant various types of obstacles. Long and skinny shadows were wet roots or sticks. The rounder shadows were rocks. Sometime you got it wrong. Or sometimes you got air and lost the depth of the shadows. What was distinct differences between light and dark was now all dark as you sailed silently over the trail you hoped was still there.

Mostly we rode what we could feel.

Having felt so many things in the last few days, weeks & months, it was nice to have just the feel of a ride last night.

-b