Day Twelve TWWS

4 June 2010, 5:20 AM. Cool and clear. Thought it was plenty light already, the half-moon, at about 11 o'clock in the southern sky, was still lit up. Seemed such a short time since it was big and round and low on the horizon. A few days of clouds prevented observing the stages of its waning. The "aging" linden smell I mentioned yesterday was, I think, actually privet, of which there is a large hedge near Race and Cedar. It's close to linden (and honeysuckle) but not quite so good.

Almost didn't go to Meadowbrook this morning because there have been a lot of pedestrians; hate to make them feel like they might be run over. And it's impossible not to slow down and check things out. But it was the last day and wanted to keep up the routine to the end.

Noticed that I wasn't noticing the same things as at the beginning of this project. Spiderwort maybe fading some more but still plenty out there. Snowy Penstemon, Coreopsis, Baptisia, a few purple coneflowers. Was looking for wild roses and completely missed the statue watching the sunrise. Didn't find any roses, either. The iris may have had one or two very low blooms yet, but tomorrow probably won't. There were lots of small, young cottontail rabbits, and some bigger ones, especially by the stone sculpture that spells the word "to." Surprised a cock pheasant perched on a bench, didn't know they got up off the ground.

Headed to Washington street via Race. Across from Prairie School, saw what looked like a dead cat with two crows partaking of it. Looked forward to being back at the Quiet Place on Cottonwood Road and was not disappointed, though I didn't hear all the separate bird songs this time. Did see four goldfinches together in their bobbing, swooping flight, coordinated like the Blue Angels.

Kept on straight on Cottonwood Road past US 150, then over the I-74 bridge. Saw what looked like a groundhog/woodchuck/marmot down one bank of the bridge. Passed a farm house with a long border of pink peonies still mostly in bloom, right next to the house. There was another house a short way later. Decided that dogs probably were not a problem because the grounds were meticulously kept. Did repeat a few "You're such a sweet doggie's" just to stay in practice. A couple of deer ambled in a farm field; on the other side of the road, in the distance, a deer ran at high speed.

Passed Trelease Prarie, which had Penstemon and probably Tradescanta. Then came Trealse Woods, which was so dark under its oak-hickory canopy, and then the Phillips Tract. Turned around at another meticulously maintained place with an old honey locust tree with huge thorns and a walnut tree, already with good-sized fruit.

Saw the large, dark brown animal I thought was a groundhog still in the place where I saw it on the way out. Then noticed that its ears didn't look very groundhog. It was a big, probably feral cat. For a moment I thought it was a bobcat, I think a bobcat would have been out of there immediately if I'd seen it at all rather than sitting there looking at me, as if daring me to come closer for a better look.

Getting close to Highcross on Washington Street, on the sides of the road were attractive and fragrant arrangements of red clover and yellow sweet clover. Passing by Prairie School, noticed that the dead animal, crows somewhere else, was actually a rabbit. My mammalian taxonomy was faulty today.

Toward the end of the ride, thought about how wonderful the water will feel on Monday. Maybe I'll take a short bike ride before the pool opens. This exercise of reporting on these two weeks away from the pool have been a wonderful way to be aware of little things that I might have missed otherwise, an exercise in mindfulness. I conclude this exercise with gratitude for the morning from a bike and for anticipated mornings in the water.

And I would like to say thank you to my dear followers and anyone who may have read any part of this!

More posts with more adoption content to come, I promise.

Day Eleven, TWWS

5:30 AM. So grateful it was not raining and still early in the morning. Getting used to the route and maybe not noticing as much as at first. Smelled linden again, though with a hint of age, a reminder that it will pass, be missed.

At Meadowbrook, could just barely see a couple of iris blossoms, low to the ground. Tradescantia may be passing their peak, still lots of Penstemon. Also the first purple coneflowers, Echinacea. Many bird songs I didn't recognize near the iris, including one that sounded like a human whistling slowly. On the south side, away from the path, are bluebird houses, but haven't seen any bluebirds yet. Thought I saw swallows using one. Farther down, toward the observation platform, it smelled minty. Heard the "whirring" sound here.

Headed south on Race Street, past the trees that make me think of Wisconsin. The band of trees is narrow but still so nice. Something comforting about riding close to trees, can almost feel the cortisol levels go down. Turned east on Old Church Rd. Saw at least five cars in quick succession. What gives? Where is the quiet I had here last time? Was feeling greedy for it, especially after yesterday's traffic.

Going up the rise with the stark view, I realized this must be the actual Yankee Ridge, not the subdivision or the school but the geological feature. I love the little feeling here of not seeing quite over the ridge, being for a short time in the middle of nowhere; really like that spot. Then thought of something I read once about meditation--ultimately it lets one experience the wonder of being alive as much in a garbage dump (or heavy vehicle traffic) as at the top of a mountain (or ridge). Tried to remember that the rest of my life could be as engrossing as this bike ride in the country. Everything is just as it is, with its particular characteristics. Even life with teenagers and a messy house. Even the limits of my own generosity and competence.

On the South side of Old church was a prairie restoration, Barnhart Prairie, which had pretty much the same flowers blooming as Meadowbrook. Also it had the minty smell. Turned south on 1500E and passed a house, obscured by pine trees close to the road, The roof of which reminded me of a 1950's style airport, the old Meigs Field (Chicago), I think. Rode almost to the riding stable just a little ways down the road and turned back around. Someday I'll make a loop of it. In the horse pasture (paddock?) were a number of horses, including one with odd spots on its hindquarters. I stared (like a predator, it might have thought) at it until it whinnied at me, and I went on without determining whether the spots were of natural or artificial origin.

Keep forgetting to mention the smell of manure, which, though I know is excrement, I don't find unpleasant; it just makes me think of being out in the country.

On the way back on Race Street, saw the big rock that looks like a couch. I've seen it more than 100 times but am always struck by how it looks like a soft, comfy thing, especially when viewed from the south.

Arrived home at 6:45. Already tomorrow will be the last day.

Day Ten, TWWS

4:45 AM. Woke to a roll of thunder and the hiss of rain. Rats! How long will it last? Should I go ahead with Plan C or wait a while? I'm not good at making decisions first thing in the morning. It's this kind of uncertainty that knocks one's routine out of the groove.

So prepared to forgo cycling for something indoors, yoga. Before leaving I noticed there had been no more thunder and a robin was singing; maybe the rain had stopped. No, it was still coming down--what a plucky bird. Walked with an umbrella to the yoga studio. The dawn chorus was gearing up despite the rain, despite the uniformly grey western sky.

I love yoga, consider myself a “yoga practitioner,” do a handful of poses every day and, lately, some kind of practice a few days a week in addition to that. I used to always practice first thing in the morning, but it was hard to keep within the allotted time. Swimming fits so much more neatly into its little time slot. And there are so many fewer decisions to make when swimming, an important consideration first thing in the morning. I’ve been taking yoga classes for ten years; you would think I‘d be an expert by now. Alas, this is not the case. I have more aches and pains than when I started, and I’m not sure whether it’s because I’m not doing enough of the right thing or too much of the wrong thing. It’s hard not to get discouraged by this, to be annoyed that after all this time I’m still not doing it “right. “

But I still think it’s worth showing up and noticing (when I can nudge out the concerns of my life that seem to flock to my mind during practice) what actions result in what sensations. So I practiced and felt reasonably good afterward. Note--I intend to reflect more on yoga in a future post.

It still was raining a little on my way home. Noticed that it was harder to find new things along a path I’ve taken uncounted times, but did see little maple seedlings growing in holes in an old stump. Close to home, heard the song of a toad, then another one, on a different note, two different notes together.

The rain stopped by about 8, and although the yoga was nice enough, I really wanted a bike ride. So since the time happened to be available and the weather seemed to permit, I headed off to Meadowbrook about 8:30. Brought the recorder. There certainly was more traffic around, which made observing a little more difficult, or at least different.

At Meadowbrook there was more color appearing in the prairie despite the grey skies: even more Coreopsis and also a pink wild rose, with plenty of blue Tradescantia to set them off. Had to look hard to find the last iris. Heard a sound that was kind of like a person whining, reminded me that yesterday that sound was there and also a whirring, knocking kind of sound. Don’t know all the birds of Meadowbrook; have to research these.

Headed west on Windsor Rd. on the bike path. There was some wind and it seemed all uphill. Felt good to get that heart rate up a little. Was surprised how much traffic there was. Although could see farm land for much of the ride, could also see development. It goes on farther than I realized.

Didn’t make particular note of garden flowers, but noticed some large peach colored lilies, just starting to bloom, with broad, blunt petals in a garden on Windsor near Mattis.

The bike path became just a bit of shoulder west of Duncan Rd., and even that disappeared as Windsor crossed over I-57. It was not a good place for a bike—narrow and busy. Proceeded to Staley Rd. in front of which was some kind of garage with a garbage can in which something was burning smokily. Then turned around and came back. The way back was easier, lots of downhill and a slight tail wind.

Saw a dead (not very recently) groundhog along Windsor between First and Lincoln. Remembered also seeing one across the street from the yoga studio, the same one, I’m sure, that I’d seen crossing the street there on Saturday morning. Wouldn’t have thought when I started this that I’d be writing so much about road kill, but it gets one’s attention.

Arrived home at 10:23. Hope tomorrow is less complicated!

Day Nine, TWWS

5:18 AM. Just hadn't planned on fog. Would have to take a different route than planned because I didn't want to surprise even the eight motorists I might see with my sudden presence. Could have used blinking lights to increase visibility and safety, but I wasn’t sure how waterproof they were; besides, the mountings were on the other bike and I didn’t want to take the time to switch them.

It definitely was a "pea souper." Noticed a smaller example of something I saw on the way to the pool one morning, which was “rain” under the trees and not away from them, condensation creating tiny local showers. Besides making it rain under the trees and diminishing visibility generally, the fog condensed on my glasses, requiring stops to wipe at regular intervals. This kind of impediment to the planned workout does not occur with swimming. There were a couple of days when the ride was so lovely I thought I might be tempted to abandon swimming for cycling, at least for part of the summer, but this was not one of them.

Proceeded with caution. At Meadowbrook, couldn’t find the iris. Was the lovely but unassertive blue lost in the fog, or do they just not open so early when the sun isn’t shining? Lots and lots of Tradescantia and Penstemon, at least what was visible close to the path. More Baptisia and maybe Coreopsis than yesterday. The fog revealed spider webs all over: loosely woven threads strung with tiny beads. I wished for a camera. Noticed that the hairs on my arms were outlined the same way!

At Windsor road went east to Philo, then turned around and headed west to Lincoln. Turned north onto the bike path, minimizing contact with both vehicles and pedestrians. Passed the U. of I. school of Veterinary Medicine, where my youngest sister got her DVM. Remembered a Saturday morning in April of 1992 at that place, when my sister showed my husband and me and a 19-year-old young woman with a lot of ear piercings, red plaid tights, and an oversized “Ultraman” tee shirt around the Large Animal Clinic. We had talked on the phone to this young woman but had never met her before this day; we’d picked her up from the train station and were about to spend the day with her. She was pregnant, and we were hoping to adopt her baby. Talk about intense…

Turned west at Florida and rode on the wide, uninterrupted sidewalk across the street from the cemetery. (Mount Hope, I think it’s called.) Headed south on the bike path to Windsor and turned around and came back north again, retracing my path on Florida, turning south on Lincoln and heading home. I thought maybe the fog would clear during the ride, but is was still there as I neared home, confining my attention to things close by, even to my head. Like formulating a response to another blog I follow.

Got back about 6:30 and was going to take a photo of the fog for this post, but then got caught up in the getting-ready-for school vortex. By the time I thought to go out for a picture, the fog was pretty much gone. Funny how much I wanted it to go away and was now disappointed it was gone!

Day Eight TWWS

Monday, 31 May 2010. About 5:40 AM. Got a relatively late start, but it’s a holiday, after all. The sky was cloudy, the air muggy but surprisingly cool with the bike in motion, heading south on Race Street. Didn't bring the recorder today because rain looked possible. I may quit using it anyway.

Yesterday’s heat seemed to have finished off the irises and most of the peonies. The Perfect Garden (I call it that with nothing but admiration) featured roses of assorted colors, including three very large very white blossoms that I couldn’t be sure until I looked closer were not late peonies.

At Meadowbrook the Tradescantia showed little sign of waning, while the Penstemon seemed to be thickening. More Coreopsis showed in a spot where I’d seen a few last week, near the prairie observation platform. Also saw the first Baptisia (false indigo), like vertebral columns (some with a bit of scoliosis) atop horizontally spreading leaves. Wondered what I might be missing while taking this census and remembered I hadn’t checked to see if the iris back at the cardinal flower site was still blooming, so decided to take another loop around. There still were plenty of iris blooms, though they seemed lower to the ground than the earlier ones.

Headed back north on Vine and east on Washington. Felt a little lazier, a little less excited than the last time I was there. Missed swimming, the aerobics of it. Was excited enough to want to go farther than last time (it’s a holiday!), jogged right, then left on 1525N to 1900E. Wasn’t ready to go straight home as I’d originally planned, so headed north on 1900E until I saw Mount Olive cemetery, which I hadn’t realized was there. Rode along one side of it and saw some names I didn’t know well but did recognize, including at least one person I’d met when he was alive. Saw what appeared to be a white, life-sized (or larger) statue of a baby (actually an angel) sitting to one side of a wrought iron bench.

Back on Washington Street was about to pass Cottonwood Dr., but the north side again beckoned. Turned right, but then felt like I had to stop (between the red stop sign and the yellow “stop ahead” sign, both of which had 2-3 inch, irregular holes blown through the middle of them). Now it was so quiet. Not silent—made a mental list of the sounds: traffic and birds, most conspicuously robin, cardinal, red-winged blackbird, pheasant, goose, rooster. But away from trees, between two fields of young soybeans, all of these sounds were soothingly distant. I stood (kind of defeating the exercise part of the purpose of the trip) looking up at the morning sky and listened a while, grateful to be able to take it in.

Continuing east on Cottonwood Rd., I crossed the I-74 bridge, near which grew a thick stand of wild parsnip (Pastinaca) and the tops of some of which were covered with white mesh bags. Must be someone after swallowtail butterflies. Crossed the Saline Ditch and went on a little way. The road was enticing, pleasantly rolling, but could see houses and didn’t feel like worrying about dogs, so turned back.

Passed Prairie School without checking on the hidden prairie. Would have needed binoculars to see what was going on in the pond, and it was near 7:30. I was ready to be home.

At about the halfway point of my swimming hiatus, I must say that while I have no idea whether this is at all interesting to anyone else, writing about my biking adventures has made them just incredibly enjoyable to me. However, I am disappointed that it takes so long to say what I want to say about it. So for the remainder of this week, I may have to skimp even more on writing quality to let the rest of my family have their fair share of computer time and hope my readers (ha, ha!) will forgive me.

Day Seven, TWWS

Sunday 30 May 2010. Hadn’t planned to post on Saturday and Sunday as I don’t usually swim on the weekend, but was in Chicago on Saturday to celebrate my mother’s birthday, and toward the end of the festivities, my sister Lisa announced that the 2010 Bike the Drive was happening in the morning and did I want to join her? It meant changing my train reservation, but how could I refuse? And how could I resist writing something about it?

“Bike the Drive,” which is a fundraiser for an organization called Active Transport Alliance, runs along Lake Michigan on a 15 mile stretch of Lake Shore Drive, between Bryn Mawr Avenue and 57th Street. The Drive is closed to motor vehicles for this event and filled with bikes—how cool is that?

My sister and I loaded two bikes, helmets, and water bottles in her car and we headed downtown at about 6:30 AM. Would like to have been there for the beginning of the event, which started at 5:30, but I was her guest, and she was the driver. She had a pass to park close to the event but unfortunately couldn’t use it because the event blocked the way to the parking garage. So we spent a while looking for a place to put the car. I braced for the disappointment of having to turn around and go home, but eventually we found a spot.

Even with a good crowd attending, registration was quick, and soon we were heading south on Lake Shore Drive. The temperature was, well, just about perfect, in the 70’s and with no wind to speak of. The sun shone, though the colors of the sky and the lake were subdued by a bit of haze. The skyscrapers and the Field Museum were so stately and beautifully composed against the lake, but I must say that the volume of bicyclists was a bit distracting. It felt almost exactly like being on the expressway full of cars; one false move and there would be a pile-up. My sister and I talked some, though it was hard to relax with people passing and shifting positions. The subject of death came up, somehow—our sister who died a year and a half ago; Lisa’s best friend, who happened to have been adopted. We talked about how hard it was to know how to make the experience of someone who is very ill easier rather than more difficult.

Riding along the lakefront reminded me of an old photograph of my father by the lakefront as a young man that Lisa said she remembered when I described it to her. In the photo, he is lying on his back on a blanket. He is wearing sunglasses and his face looks sunburned. You might think he’s lying on a sandy beach, but a line on the right side of the photo shows that the surface is concrete; it was a place they called “The Rocks.” I remember gazing at that photo on my parents’ refrigerator once when my husband and I were visiting, shortly after we had a long-expected expected adoption fall through. I was weighed down with grief, and I could tell my father desperately wanted but had no to how to ease my pain. All he could think to do was take the photo off of the fridge and give it to me. It was like giving me his heart, and I still treasure that picture…

We turned around at the Museum of Science and Industry and headed back. I noticed how very smooth the road was, except for the occasional (sometimes fairly deep!) pothole. Then I noticed footprints preserved in one of the slabs. Lisa and I were psyched for future bike trips, in Wisconsin and elsewhere in Illinois, when our schedules let us.

It wasn’t swimming (though we could see water), and there definitely was no solitude or open space about it, but biking the Drive with my “twin” sister and the throng of cyclists supporting “active transportation” was quite satisfying and enjoyable.

Day Five, TWWS

Friday 28 May 2010, 5:15 AM. I’m going to make a confession, which is that I’ve been carrying a little audio recorder on my bike rides, rubber-banded to the handlebars, so I can catch details that I might otherwise forget. Is this cheating? I don’t use everything I record, and I don’t record everything I remember. What’s kind of fun to hear are particular bird songs, the wind, and traffic on busy roads.

So it was yet another beautiful morning, slightly cooler and drier—wore a light sweater and was comfortable. Speaking of which, already I’m pretty much used to the seat of the mountain bike.

Sweet linden smell again.

On Race Street just across Florida was a sycamore tree with one of its limbs lying on the ground. Reminded me of something I read last night in my son’s history paper, that Stonewall Jackson’s left arm was buried in a different place from the rest of him.

A little farther down, the sight of the moon above the Orchard Downs garden plots made me cry out, it was so big and orange, beautiful and unexpected.

Started the Meadowbrook loop, paid respects to the sea of spiderwort (and penstemon), but then worried that I’d miss the moon going down so turned back. It was just a little disappointing because it faded as it went down. But it was bigger than the sun, which was rising on the other side of the sky. What balance! Made me think of ancient people who thought that the sun and moon were oh so much more equal than they turned out to be: the sun way way bigger than the earth and millions of degrees and far away and the moon so close and cold and tiny.

Went south to Old Church Road. Crossed a creek. On the road was a dead mouse, or maybe it was a vole. Had quite thick fur. Saw and heard a meadowlark on a fencepost and then another on the next one. Handsome yellow and black markings and beautiful song! Heard a mental recording of Bob Dylan singing “your voice is like a meadowlark” from “One More Cup of Coffee.” Passed a housing development with a sidewalk, so got off the road onto the sidewalk. Here I encountered my first barking dog. Fortunately it was safely behind a fence and I didn’t have to test my “Oh, you’re such a good sweet doggie!” tactic. Went north at Prospect, which turned into a hike and bike path with a lot of people walking quiet, well-behaved dogs. One side of the road was farm fields and the other was carefully maintained yards.

Turned east on Curtis Road and then to Race and on home. Noticed I much preferred riding out in the country to riding in town. Out in the open, one feels especially that sensation like flying. Like swimming, it’s moving without contacting the ground. Rode into a bit of a headwind (east wind?), which made the heart rate go up some. Tried to think of the wind not as an impediment to progress but just a different kind of exertion. Need to remember that as a metaphor for difficulties in life.

Back at 6:26.