Not Today

February 5, 2014, around 3:00 PM

The predicted storm showed up. Lemonstar got 10 inches of powdery snow. It snowed all day. By nightfall it was all but over. All that was left was the clean-up.

The next two days are supposed to be clear, cold, bright. Is a ride in the offing? Snowy roadsides, hidden patches of the fabled "black ice." Danger! Beware! Be afraid! Don't ride!

And yet eleven rides already this year. OM AH HUM the balance and the gift of health. But there's a challenge there too. There's a slender little Belgian cyclist on my shoulder shouting encouragement in my ear. He's urging me to stay lean, to ride in all conditions, to think of the pavé.

I take this as a personal challenge.

Today's workout was all upper body. Two decks to shovel off, two walks, a few connecting paths, then some snow-blowing (driveway, city sidewalk). A few hundred calories I'm sure. Not a Sholan Loop but at least it's the body in action. Tonight, shoulders and back resonate with  the day's effort.

But I'm thinking about yesterday and am thinking about paper wasp nests. You know the kind, those big gray blobs hanging from a tree branch. I always associate them with Bruegel. They appear in his paintings, I think. They're like a medieval rugby ball stuck in a tree, a surreal orb of the Underworld.

I saw one yesterday. It had been blown apart by the elements, by time. It hung with dignity but without usefulness.

Ragged Wasp Nest

Isn't that the fear we all face? To be dignified but useless? Or worse. To be useless and without dignity? Sigh. That raspy wasp nest swaying in the February dusk. The reluctance of my quads on the next significant climb reminded me to power through their complaints. Tired legs, after all, an absurdity when faced with the impermanence of wasp nests. Those shredded paper walls, those exposed chambers of the next generation. Who will survive to sting the apple picker next autumn?

Looking Down the Great Expanse of Tuttle Rd, Lemonstar
February 4, 2014