June 6, 2008

Crushing heat. I rode my bike in the cool of the morning along Bent Creek, and was happy. I remembered a few things from long ago when I was, for a time, a serious biker, how to turn into a curve, how to handle gravel. The forest was empty and the forest roads heavy with perfume, mostly honeysuckle. White laurel studded the roadside and places higher on the slopes. Biking gives one a subtler sense of topography than walking. I was aware of having to pump the pedals the whole way out, but didn’t realize until the way back that it was because it was a very little bit uphill, which meant the return was a dizzying, breezeful, joyous glide. It is not yet noon and I have had my bike ride and finished a draft of the opera, which suits me just fine. Lets see how it suits FF. I think he’ll hate the title.