Monday, February 6, 2012
Jacob once rode a bike across this great nation of ours. Today he pedals at a decidely less ambitious pace and reach - tough a 2-hour Sunday ride with the family is nothing to be ashamed off - especially, since he pulled our nearly 40-pound child up and over a few hills without even a trace of a complaint.
We did take a break, when a bridge along a flat country road beckoned us. I forget how beautiful this corner of aformentioned nation is. I hike and run around in its forested areas all the time, but on a bike you see things differently and you get to FEEL the wide-openess and contours of things. I was reminded of how much agriculture there still is right around us.
We threw a few rocks, a few sticks, chased them to the other side of the bridge (we looked left and right, but VERY QUICKLY) and we simply stood and watched the French Broad (I have always loved that name for its double-entendre raunchiness) as it busily pulled along any and all debris we had to throw at it.
Gus took a nap. We needed one when we got home.
Family time. It simply is one of the best times we have in this life