Autumn Rides

Autumn is, I think, my favorite time of year.

One day last week, with Zachery safely in school and the sun finally sneaking out from the sluggish grey that colored much of October, I took advantage of some time for a long bike ride down the waterfront. I haven't been taking much "Dad time" lately, mainly because taking time for myself means taking time away from job-hunting or chasing consulting work, and I feel too guilty to grab even small amounts...

But I needed the exercise, and with the fall edging inexorably towards winter, I knew good days for biking were numbered. I set off, new bike helmet (birthday gift) gleaming, south, down to the lake front bike trails, where I could avoid the ever-present city traffic that threatened to turn me into a fender decoration.

The sky was a pristine blue, devoid of even a touch of cloud. Autumn air is inescapably clear, sharp and brisk, with the brilliant hue of the leaves making even the dullest vista look like it was touched by a crew of brawling impressionists.

The run away from my house was the easiest, downhill all the way, so I hit the lake trail at a good speed and turned west. The cold seasonal weather seemed to have driven all but a handful of sailboats off the water and one paralleled me offshore of the trail, scudding along under a thin set of white sails until I left if behind.

My half-way point was, quite naturally enough, a rocky point that the trail curved out and around. I coasted to a halt, removed my helmet and sat down on the rocks, watching the lake. The wind shot out from behind me, whipping at my yellow windcheater, and leaving long transient wind shadows arcing across the water, trailing out into the blue. A distant flock of ducks sailed past, black irregular dots against the gleaming, rippling water, heading, east and, eventually , hopefully, heading south for winter.

Autumn is a season for spectacle, made all the more gaudy by the imminent approach of winter. Strangely enough, I have always thought of it as a celebration season. You are never closer to life then at the onset of winter and I always have the sense that autumn is that last grand fling for Mother Nature before everything is enclosed in the cold polar embrace of winter.

I climbed back aboard my bike and headed north, cutting up the river valley trail before turning towards home. On a weekday the trail was quiet, no more than a handful of bikers or walkers crossed my path. One reason I enjoy this trail so much is the brief illusion that the city bustle is gone, a far-distant memory. I cheat a little, walking part of the steep trail out of the river valley, joining back into the sidestreets that lead me home.

I park my bike in the garage and, sweat-soaked, peel off my windcheater and helmet. I head back in the house, check my messages and go back to my daily tasks. I have to pick Zack up from school in another hour. I have to call a headhunter back and check with another company on a possible writing project.

A little part of me is still hanging out in the autumn air, watching the leaves spiral down...

Comments are always welcome. You can reach me at dadchronicles(at)hotmail.com.