Restless and unsure of anything, not anything at all, I ride my bicycle in the dark to the top of the mountain. There, I stash my bike behind a clump of small spruce and hike deep into the woods; the night is warm and spooky, the air thick and tangible, the trees dripping from an earlier shower. But the moon shows intermittently, and by the time I’ve returned to my bike, the sky is clearing rapidly, the temperature dropping quick. I ride back down the mountain road fast as possible, trying and failing to outrun the cold, my headlamp punching a small hole of light that I’m constantly riding into but never emerging from, and rounding the sweeping corner I whoop loudly, suddenly so grateful for the speed and the cold and the simple fact that no matter what happens – with the election, with the economy, with the pandemic, with anything, really – there remains the possibility of riding a bicycle downhill in the dark, forehead so cold it hurts, fingers so cold they hurt, cheeks so cold they hurt, and maybe it’s a cliche, but isn’t it true that sometimes it takes a little discomfort to remind us just how lucky we are to be alive?
Well, yes. I think it’s true.
Ben Hewitt 
Thank you sir
Thank you!
Absolutely!
I too am in agreement. This reminded me of James McMurtry, Childish Things. Which, by the way, I am indebted to you. It on this forum a few years ago, when I was introduced to his song writing talents.
I needed that.
Hi Ben….It’s warming to see that so much still exists to overshadow the bad. And mostly, that good connection comes from nature. Stay connected with her and we can stay grounded.
Tomorrow is October 30 and I will carve a face into the big pumpkin I bought. Tomorrow night and again on Halloween I will place a candle in it. With the lack of trick or treaters this year it’s possible that no one in a costume will see it. But I will.
Happy Halloween!
Thanks as always for taking the time to make my day
People have been pinching themselves for (a long time) for this very reason, no? I’m half waiting to read how are you again skim your chest on the bottom of the pond after a mountain bike crash. You have courage.
I’ve been a wimp… haven’t been in the pond in weeks. Penny still goes most days
It’s true, and that type of thing is what I cling to in order to keep going. It’s like, “OH GOOD! YOU’RE STILL HERE NATURE!” Thank fucking god.
Ain’t that the truth!
Glad to hear from you.
That first really cold day of the season when you find the chill stealing your breath and you are just glad you have some breath at all – yeah, I get that. Hope all is well up your way!
I always feel nourished after reading what you write. And always so delicious!
Yes!
So very true ~ no matter what becomes, as Anne Frank stated “The birds yet fly.”