Life and living

Life has a nasty habit of getting in the way of living, as it goes along with no regard for the important things.  Mundane tasks such as shopping for food, obtaining prescriptions, preparing for winter and attending activities for children and grandchildren take precedence and soon become all encompassing.  It takes a very real effort to get back to 'living' activities that provide enjoyment and quality of life benefits.  And, of course, the weather also gets in the way; five inches of snow on unplowed roads is pretty much a show-stopper.  However, I'm somewhat content to shrug off these minor inconviences and look at maps and catalogs, dreaming and planning for getting back to living.

Anticipation

Waiting for the first snow of the season harkens me back to the days of my youth;

although I don't have the same desires of snow ball fights and forts, I am anxious to see the fresh snow coating the browning vegetation.  I'm riding some of the lesser traveled roads now, trying to acquaint myself with the location of potholes which will be filled with uncompacted snow.  My riding has changed from going out early to avoid the heat of the day, to waiting until after lunch so I can ride during the heat of the day, which will be in the 20s and 30s for the next three or four months. That first blanket of sparkling white snow, untrammeled and clean, gives promise of a new beginning.  I want to get up early enough to ride through that white world, blazing a track before it is sullied by snowplows or turned to slush by the sun;

and if, by chance, an unsuspecting target presents itself when the freshly fallen snow is of the right consistency...

Sweet sixteen

No, I was never 'sweet' 16 however, I did just have a very nice sixteen mile ride.  The sun was glaringly bright but the temperature was in the low 40s with a light, variable wind. 

I started off going out Airport Road and then took off on the old road toward Ellensburg.





 I stopped at the Teanaway River where I could see a lot of fall color laying on the banks.

To the North, Mt Stuart stood, draped in a fresh coating of snow.

Farther along, I could see the Yakima River wending its way through the fall color remnants.

I turned off on Taylor Road, a gravel road I'd never ridden before;






at the top I was able to see the ridge that is southwest of town and noticed the first dusting of snow on it (the peak in the center of the picture.)

At Lambert Road I was back on chip seal and stopped when I crossed the Teanaway River again.

From there it was a short five mile jaunt back along Airport Road to home.