carpe momentum

Yesterday I was off work, so I slept in a bit, until 7:00. My plan was to start the day with a long country bike ride.

But yesterday was not a very nice day. When I got up and looked out the window, I saw that it was snowing. Big fat wet flakes. A fierce wind was blowing. I started laundry and wrote some e-mails. When I looked out the window at 10:00, it was still snowing. Bigger, fatter, wetter flakes. The wind was worse. I did Hubby's bookkeeping and worked on my session-end report. When I looked out at 12:00, you guessed it -- still windy; still snowing. Possibly the biggest, fattest, wettest flakes I'd ever seen.

I decided that I might have to give up the idea of a bike ride.

But at 5:00, as my son was packing for his overnight backpacking trip, I looked outside again. The wind was not quite so fierce. The sun was peeping through the clouds. Hmmm... maybe...

By 6:00 when the men departed for the backpackers' starting point, the sun was definitely out. The clouds had become thin and wispy. The snow had stopped. The wind was gentle. The temperature on our backyard thermometer said +7. Yes!!

I set out for my ride, thinking that I could at least do the Grand Old Duke of York ride, if not anything more. Accordingly, I rode to the highest point and then back down again. I saw an owl sitting atop a bare tree, seemingly asleep and waiting for the dark. I saw -- and heard -- the first robin of the season. I saw a bull, alone in a field, eyeing up everything and everyone that passed. I even saw another equally crazy dedicated cyclist.

It turned out that the precipitation hadn't quite stopped. In spite of the anemic-looking clouds overhead, a misty rain fell continuously. There was some mud under my wheels. But it was beautiful all the same.

As I crossed the highway to return to town, I saw another sight, this one not so welcome: three youths on quads and dirt bikes, riding up-and-down and on-and-off the highway on-ramp. Once I got across the highway, I stopped and somewhat hesitantly called the RCMP to report what I'd seen. If those were my kids, I'd want to know about it, I reasoned.

Later that evening, I received a call from an RCMP constable, thanking me for my call and saying that he had tracked down the kids and taken them home to their parents, who were going to deal with them.

I was happy -- for more than one reason -- that I'd seized the moment and gone for my bike ride.