It was 48 degrees outside when I left. The stark light of fall in the morning was brilliant. I didn’t want to ride a long time. Wanted to get home to work in the garden. Go to the grocery store. Take care of the dog. Hang out with Kim. Read a book.
Still, I wanted to ride a bit so I headed down Brush Valley Road towards Centre Hall. As usual I don’t get far before my eyes are overwhelmed and I need to stop and make a picture. I don’t use that word need lightly. I’m like a dog. Since I first picked up a camera at around 9 years old I have been compelled to point it at the world. I’m used to it now but there still are times when I wish I could turn it off.
Kim loves the light this time of year. I think it radiates differently. It glows and the light appears refracted from a billion fall particles. Whatever it is it makes the Vespa stop a lot.
When I started writing this post I told myself it would be short. Whatever happened to my one picture posts? Those were a lot easier. With more pictures in the camera I feel as if I am hiding something by not sharing them. Even the insignificant ones.
Riding along sinking creek the sun would disappear as the hills crowded the road in shadow making the color and light even more intense when I would break into the open.
I try not to but I pity those who don’t ride. I saw a few bicyclists go by at one point and their heads were down as they pumped away on those low slung bars of their road bikes. I could not help but think they were missing the roses.
At Spring Mills I stop for a bottle of water at one of the vanishing old time country stores.
This was an upscale one. It had two wood stoves. Feeling good and the scooter running well I decided to brave the only road I have ever had dog experiences on. It’s been over a year since the last time I rode here but sure enough the three little beasts were still there, still looking forward to a good chase. My LX150 handily dismissed them. The GTS did just as well.
Heading home I saw an Amish buggy coming down a side road. I never shoot Amish pictures. Except this day.
The fellow driving the buggy actually stopped to comment on the scooter. I commented on his horse which was all lathered with sweat. He said the horse always gets wound up when they go to the store. He loves to go for a ride. I understood. I asked if I could shoot a picture when he went by and he said go right ahead. I was in the wrong position but I tripped the shutter anyways. I wondered which was cheaper to operate.
I put the Vespa in the garage and started to sweep leaves off the driveway. A mediative practice rivaled only by washing dishes. Some days I am not sure which is more relaxing—the ride or the chores. Either way it was good to be home.