Morning Bike Ride

This morning I went for a bike ride through the French countryside. It was exquisite in the early morning light. The cool breeze washed over my face and made my checks flush with pink. The sun smiled through the gray clouds and lit the forest on fire. The grass sparkled in neon greens and tiny, little, yellow flowers still managed to poke their heads through the wet leaves, even in the middle of winter. I passed black and white cows playing king of the dung heap, nearly got bombarded by geese and heard roosters crowing like there was no tomorrow. I even encountered a few dogs but didn’t stay long enough to find out whether or not they were friendly. The feeling of freedom. Not knowing, or caring where you are or even what you are. Being open to all possibilities. Should I go right or should I go left? Spontaneous exploration is a wonderful thing. Breathing in the damp air. That smell of wonderful rotting leaves and moss on trees gives me a feeling of forever. It is a timeless scent with no end. It is comforting and will make you remember the funniest things. As I headed home, I passed an old fellow on his bike on his way out for his own cycling adventure. Just as I got into the barn, it started to drizzle, then pour. I wonder if he turned around and went home or if he enjoyed getting caught in the rain?