I should have been in the garden last Friday, but Ted and I conspired to take advantage of a day that is bright and 20 F above normal to hop on our bikes for a 46 mile ride in New York.
We started as the fog parted in the morning opening up the path for us to explore. The air is thick with moisture and the woods quiet with hardly anything stirring. That changes the moment we approach any pond or vernal pool as the spring peepers are projecting in a deafening full chorus. Few walkers or cyclists are on the path with us as asleep as the surrounding grounds.
Most fields are devoid of growth, looking dingy and straw-covered. Nearby streams, rivers and tiny waterfalls explode with noise and flow as the seasonal melt continues. Pedaling in the morning is a contrast in temperatures as cool breezes off the lakes are counterbalanced by hot blasts of air from the blacktopped trail. We stay layered up.
The lack of leaves and growth affords the appreciation of bark textures from a wide variety of trees. One of the more outstanding is yellow birch (Betula alleghaniensis) with its curly and golden colored bark. I found it near the crossing for the Appalachian Trail, which runs thousands of miles from Georgia to Maine.
With rising temperatures, come more people and the need for Ted and I to shed layers. It’s something we look forward to and upon stopping I notice a morning cloak butterfly resting on nearby gravel. Approaching the end of our trip, tired and sweaty, I notice that the ice has not entirely lost its grip. There are still patches in shady spots. But not for long.
1 Comment
You two are crazy.