What could be better than a strong sun warming your face on a ride to a few of your favorite places on a cold winter’s day?

We love our bikes, right? And we never tire of looking at them. At least I don’t, and if I’m to judge from what others tell me, I’m not alone. So each Monday I’ll publish a bike-related picture. Most of the time it will be a photo, but don’t be surprised if a few drawings and paintings get added to the mix from time to time. I might even include a sculpture or two. (OK. A photo of a sculpture.) Anything, in short, that evokes the world on two wheels. And don’t be shy. If you have a picture you’d like to share, just email it to me. I’ll do the rest.

 
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Midwinter has come and gone, and as the days grow longer we’ll be spending more time outdoors—beginning today. You’re invited to come along, too. And you won’t even need to get your boots out of the closet. Just pour yourself a warm drink, queue up some seasonal favorites on the iPod, and scroll on down the page.

Ready? Then here we go, following in the tracks of a roving cottontail…

…as he scampers past cedars bent down under the weight of snow…

…and around wind-sculpted drifts.

But while we walk along with our heads bowed down, the better to read the trail’s snowy palimpsest, a fitful breeze sends icy plumes of powder down our necks from overhanging branches. And high above us, a fitful sun continues its unequal struggle with high clouds:

Farther down the trail, we pass close to The River, where a skim of new ice has formed in the still water of an eddy:

Yet The River can’t stop to rest. It flows fast and dark between snow-draped banks:

Now our way turns upward, leaving The River behind. Soon we part company with the trail, too. But others have gone before us:

And these busy mice weren’t the only creatures who were stirring in the night just past. A porcupine paused long enough to savor a satisfying holiday meal…

…before plodding off home to a well-earned rest:

A fox was out and about, too…

…and he missed no opportunity to claim the high ground, traversing the trunks of fallen trees whenever they lay in his path:

Still farther along, we enter the beech wood, where deer have scraped through the snow to dine on beechnuts:

We plod on. Once over the ridge, a beaver pond lies before us, its surface gelling in the cold air, while snowdrifts cloak the cattail tussocks:

The light is failing now. It’s time to head back. But just as we turn our steps homeward, we’re caught by a sudden flurry:

Then, with equal suddenness, the sun breaks through the clouds, lighting the way we’ve come:

…while reminding us yet again of nature’s bounty and—simultaneously—of the narrow divide that separates feast from famine. The sun is going down now, and the cold is starting to bite. But tomorrow is another day. And spring is coming.

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What with last-minute shopping, baking, cooking, and present-wrapping, this is a busy day for many of us—a flurry of activity, if you will. But nature keeps its own calendar. So if you’re rushed off your feet, take just a minute to stand with me among the tall pines, as snow swirls round the the dark trunks on the back of a freshening breeze. It’s a very different sort of flurry, and if you’re anything like me, it will help put the rest of the day’s busy-ness in perspective.

Right-click on the picture to open an enlargement in a new window.

 
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