Cows, Cows, Cows

I rode my bike to school today.  It was brisk but sunny and I stopped to say hi to these cows. The black one wanted nothing to do with me, but that white one stood up to greet me. Or to threaten me. I don't really know cow body language well enough to say one way or the other. On my way home, they were eating and I just yelled "see you soon" as I pedaled on by.

I left my office at a quarter to four and I was grateful for my super powered new headlight by the time I got home.  It was near dark and the rhythmic blinking was a comfort as I rounded the last hill towards home.

When I was a kid, I barely knew how to ride a bike. I mean, I could, but I was a wobbly mess and I didn't like to do it, so I didn't practice, and I never got better. I never would have imagined that adult me would be desperate to ride her bike in November, eager to get in the last few miles before snow falls. I never imagined adult me would see my bicycle as the most important transportation option available to humankind. (Sidenote: why aren't bicycles more popular in zombie fiction?  I'm talking to you, The Walking Dead.)

And it's a crazy thing, right? How do these two wheels with some rubber hold our bodies up and propel us forward with so little effort?  It's an engineering marvel, both in the mechanical sense of the machine and the biological sense of the human body. Each time I get on and my bike goes without me falling, it's like a little miracle. You be good to the earth, and the deities will be good to you.