Herb Blossom Fresh

I ripped some cilantro from the pot

on the back stoop and threw it into

the heap of black beans and rice

I’m having with my 3rd glass of red wine

 

No ride this evening because we are having

tropical rains that got their gander up

overnight and have spilled their bowls

at intervals throughout this June day

 

I dream of orioles in trees and sharing love

as the day goes from spots of blue in the

overcast sky turning to stormy heavens and a

heavy rain that washes away the agony of dreaming

 

IN Vintage Wine Festival was highlighted by

front row–groupy like–experience of letting

go and bass speakers blowing the hair on my legs

from the Gin Blossoms sound taking us all back to…

 

 

IN to Caribe and Back

Two weeks of rain and sunshine, up and down swirley whirley of weather, some days shorts-riding and two evenings ago the get-up for a late October morning ride. 

North-central Indiana.

Some roads, some trails–Brown County, Murdock park, and ‘poo.  And in between there was a jaunt to San Juan.

U.S. territory, Puerto Rico.

It rained all 5 days we were there.  A conference themed on int’l ag and extension work.  Sometimes we spoke Spanish, and sometimes not.  The locals speak both, most of them anyway, and suffice it to say, some don’t want an “American” speaking Spanish to them, and some don’t want to speak English to the “American.” 

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

In the spirit of a Garifuna boatman:  Anyway.

A colleague who grew up in a sea of sand in Niger put his feet in the water sea for the first time in his life.

And when he saw this little “jueyay,” he suggested we be careful because it might spit at us:

Perspective

Word is that some people in Niger don’t believe the oceans really exist.

Later that night we kayaked in bioilluminescense and understood why some would not believe until seeing. 

 

The Happy Virus

I caught the happy virus last night

When I was out singing beneath the stars.

It is remarkably contagious–

So kiss me.

(–Hafiz)

 

Eat Here

Beers, food and Happy Trails cookout for Argentine Juan this evening.  Ride in the morning before the IN Vintage Wine Fest the rest of the day.

Remember the Gin Blossoms?  “Hey Jealousy”

 

Phish-ing for Trails

It’s been a cold, wet spring here in Hoosier-ville, which isn’t too conducive to riding on trails.  The Wabash has been riding high for weeks, making for some road rides that can lead one to feeling like they’re riding by lakes where this summer there will be corn.

Last Friday afternoon we had sunshine, so I made way down I-65 towards Indy and cut across 865 to 465 and over to 96th Street to turn some laps at Town Run.  It’s an interesting spot to this native PA-rider, interesting being defined as:  locals that range from spandex-clad, race-training, lean as a cool pop, mtbers seeking that sub-30 minute lap on the 7 + mile circuit to the recreational boyfriend/girlfriend pedaling along in bliss without helmets on. 

Me.  I’m somewhere in between, maybe something like in love with the bike/trail/body/flow while spinning the tires at a pace that makes me spit from breathing a little on the winded side. 

First lap:  32 minutes and some change.

Second lap:  30 minutes and a few nickels of change. 

And I wasn’t wearing spandex.

**************

Haiku for Obama

You released memos

Greatest country tortures lives

What will you do now

**************

Saturday came and with it, more good weather.  Off to ‘poo I went.  Kickapoo State Park off I-74 (midwestern mtbing theme:  gotta get on the interstate to get to the trails) a little west of Danville, IL serves up a nice 10 + mile loop that Blago tried to shut down, along with many other state parks in the state. 

He failed at that too.

A few turns and climbs into the ride I came upon some mushroom hunters.  Morels are the springtime delicacy in these parts.   Ma said they found two, and later on a guy whose T-shirt interrupted my adaption of Phish singing

The tires are the things on the [bike] that make contact with the [trail]

by announcing that he was “Property of Jesus” told me that it’s still a week too early. 

I’m certain Jesus is down with his flock searching for mushrooms in the forest. 

Lap 1 done.  Lap 2.  I was done, almost.

I nearly bonked.  Riding too hard?  Didn’t refuel well after the Town Run ride?  Twenty pounds lighter means maybe not enough fat reserves?

Remedy.  I bought Chubby Hubby last evening and ate my first Ben & Jerry’s since pre-Ethiopia 2005 journey.  Rationalization:  If I’m going to up the mtb-ing again now that I have cash to burn the gas and flare up the global economy/crisis/wars, I need more fat in my diet. 

Mmmmmm.

Time to sign off.  American Idol is coming on. It’s disco night, and I can’t wait to see what Adam pulls off this week.

 

More NAHBS Photos

Shamrock Cycles

Shamrock Cycles, from the Mountains of Indiana, Broad Ripple, Indy