A perfect evening for a bike ride. When I was seven I had a purple bike with a banana seat and purple, white and yellow streamers hanging from the handlebars. Loved that bike. It even had a white basket with flowers on it for my stuffed animals. Before Chloe was born I bought myself another purple bike, a grown up one, with a very padded gel seat instead of the banana shaped one. I love this one too. When I ride it, I feel free. Happy and free, even just pedaling around Elk Grove. And I know I'm supposed to wear a helmet, but I don't.
Tonight, I took some photos of my favorite spots along my ride. I usually ride the exact same route...through the neighborhood, across Bond Road at the crosswalk, down the pathway along the creek to Waterman Park. I end up at my favorite street, Laguna Creek Drive, where the houses look like the Bradys could move right in. All low slung and shady. Railroad tracks behind them with the train shaking through fairly often. I ride slowly down that tree lined street, enjoying it. It's my own little bike ride reward.
I can always discover something new on this familiar trek. Tonight, it was two women walking forcefully, travel size cans of mace firmly grasped in their right hands. And a monk. Yes, a young, classic looking monk, robe and all, who smiled at me and said hello. He didn't carry any mace.
And always, there's Boujou. Our neighborhood mascot. This gorgeous dane hangs out in front of his house, never venturing beyond the sidewalk. He watches everyone go by, calmly, and perks up when certain comely female dogs walk by. He used to lust quite happily after
Gracie. Everyone loves this gentle guy.
Another found treasure...the espalliered apple tree. I adore how it started out all perfectly coiffed and corralled and now it's growing outside the lines.
A slice of Miami. Our neighborhood being a bit schizophrenic in its housing styles, a traditional farmhouse stands next door to this beauty.
Just a shady corner of impatients and birch trees. Some years the flowers burst from the bed; this year they are a bit tame.
Therese's birdhouse tree. Gotta smile. I used to bring Chloe to sit on the sidewalk in front of this tree when she was a baby and nothing would calm her. I'm not sure that she cared about watching the birds at the big feeder here, but it certainly soothed her strung out mama.
Ah, Auntie Annie. Our one white goose in a sea of messy Canadians. She used to have a mate, before he met a sad demise at the hand of a car, only white feathers left behind for me to recreate the crime scene from. For several weeks she called for him at sunset from the middle of the lake; it was heartbreaking. But soon she crowned herself the maiden aunt of the neighborhood and now she attaches herself to goose couples and their goslings. A fierce one, Annie. Don't come near when the babies are around; she's been known to peck humans. Right in the crotch. Ouch. Lots of goslings grow into geese here, thanks to her.
A favorite little spot along the creek. Can't you picture being ten, and hanging out here all day?
An oak tree, a picnic table, shade, the creek behind. Sit for a spell.
This new bridge replaced an old rickety one a few years back. I know it's much more fashionable to like the old one, but this one is so inviting, I can't resist her.
I love that this sign exists. I love that people really do still ride their horses here. I'm not sure if they dismount before crossing the bridge though. Did you know that before cars, horse "pollution" was a huge problem, with major battles over what to do about it? Apparently the manure was thick and deep and, I imagine, quite fragrant. And then Henry Ford came along and that problem went away.
Houses feel like people to me. This one seems like she has quite a few stories she could share.
And I always imagine the witch from
Hansel and Gretel might live here. The plastic flowers in the plants make me think not...I don't believe witches do plastic.
Right here, the train is plug your ears loud. But at night, when I'm in bed, it's a lovely rumble.
Hope you had a wonderful Wednesday.