Season of the Witch

I haven’t posted any thoughts in over a month.  I find that a bit disconcerting, given that I generally find something to say, at least a few times per month, and have for almost seven years running.

But it’s the “season of the witch” and my skull is chock full of thoughts, reveries, pondercations, impressions and anticipations...so much so, that I’ve not quite found the words.

I’ve always marveled at the change of seasons. 

Here, in the Chicago area, Nature seems to do a quick wardrobe change right after Labor Day.  Happened again this year.  Verdant green fields and warm temperatures seemingly morphed overnight.  This year, the metamorphosis precipitated a veritable avalanche of philosophications.    

It’s been quite the year.

I started bicycling in early March, many months earlier than expected.  I’ve pedaled far longer and farther than I ever expected.  There was my adventure in Toronto, with a dear friend who opened my eyes and heart.  An adventure that, truly, altered my life.  I added “urban cycling” to my repertoire.  I became a changed man.

I’ve logged over 2,000 miles in the saddle.  Pedaled far and wide, past farm fields and urban landscapes.  Scraped a bit o’ skin, broke a rib, rejoiced, rejiggered, rethought. 

And all the attendant emotions overwhelmed me when the winds freshened, as leaves blushed before falling, the fields shorn of their bounty while hungry hawks circled the sky.  I now cycle past cohorts of skeleton corn, their rattles in the wind somewhat disconcerting.  I spar with the wind, covered in grit...and  rejoice in all this year has been. 

I’m not ready to stop moving.  Not ready for the revels to end.  I’ve come to know that time and distance have their place in the grand scheme of things.  I came to see my life 2,000 miles back in the rear-view mirror and 2,000 miles closer to where I wanna be.  

With any luck at all, I might find the words to express all that I’ve felt and come to know.        

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