These are the best days, the entree to winter: the cold, crisp, and dry days that appear miraculous between the rains, the days where the skies give up hints of blue between the clouds, where the mountains, unseen for days, come out again shockingly snow-covered, where the low, wintery sun periodically sets the remaining reds and yellows of deciduous trees on fire.
These are the days that make the transition from summer to fall to winter bearable, the days where I want to ride and ride and ride to take advantage of the weather, where it seems like a positive travesty to stay inside because soon enough there will be days and weeks and months of days where it’s much, much harder to muster the enthusiasm.
I’ve been fighting off some annoying cold this weekend, and in between drowning my germs in various medicinal teas and going to bed around 8pm, I’ve been riding around the world on my bicycle, mellow-style, under the theory that fresh air and gentle exercise is always good for the immune system. And the soul.
Life is good right now in Portland:)