To Their Own Hues, And Others

Earlier today, I wrote a post about something people might not associate with Spring:  a survivor pedaling among the wreckage of Mariupol.

To me, this season is about the living beings who make it through winter--whether it's a season of cold, snow and darkness or the death and destruction of war (another kind of darkness) as well as the new life that rises, whether from the ashes or a well-tended garden.

Because I've encountered the latter on afternoon rides, I am more fortunate than the cyclist in my earlier post.  It's funny, though, how Dee-Lilah (my custom Mercian Vincitore Special), Vera (my Miss Mercian), La-Vande (my custom King of Mercia) and Tosca (my Mercian fixie) always seem to find reflections of themselves.

Or, at least they, in their differing shades of purple, are drawn like moths to the flame of color.

Even if it isn't their own.

 

A Spring Night On Grove Street

Is it true that in the Spring, a young bike's fancies turn to romance?  How does that saying go?

As the young would say...whatever!  I don't give advice about love and romance, but I'm willing to make recommendations for floral gifts:

Standing In A Spectrum Of Gray

During the past two days, our weather has been a spectrum of gray, from fog to mist to drizzle to showers to rain--and back again.  

Yes, I rode to work. But that was the extent of my cycling.  Even though we're well into May, the temperatures--and, it seems, the light--feel more like early spring.  So it's been just warm enough that some people, like me, want to experience it, or simply be outside for a little while.  But it's been chilly enough that some seek shelter from it.

Some who seek shelter look for--or build--castles in the air:

The gothic-looking building  with the blurred top in the middle of the photo is the Woolworth Building, one of the first skyscrapers built here.  I've never been to the top floors, but I've seen a fog-enshrouded skyline from the top of the Empire State Building and the World Trade Center.  It's sort of like rising from a dream without waking from it.

As for those who remain outside in the misty chill: They do not always stand tall. They don't have to; they just stand.  Sometimes it's hard not to notice them.

For them, the season is beginning in a spectrum they will help to complete.