Early mornings

From Bicycle Tour 2007

Recently I picked up Aldo Leopold's "A Sand County Almanac" at the local recycling drop-off. It's very good, which makes me wonder why I never got around to reading it when it was required course work for a college class... good thing I got a second chance at it. The book contains Leopold's observations of wildlife on and around his farm in central Wisconsin. These observations are blended with general bits of biology, botany and history, as well as some transcendent moments of philosophy that resonate through Leopold's clear, simple, and heartfelt voice. Here's a favorite passage of mine:

One hundred and twenty acres, according to the County Clerk, is the extent of my world domain. But the County Clerk is a sleepy fellow, who never looks at his record books before nine o'clock. What the would show at daybreak is the question here at issue.

Books or no books, it is a fact, patent both to my dog and myself, that at daybreak I am the sole owner of all the acres I can walk over. It is not only boundaries that disappear, but also the thought of being bounded. Expanses unkown to deed or map are known to every dawn, and solitude, supposed no longer to exist in my county, extends on every hand as far as the dew can reach.

The notion of dawn as renewal has long ago descended into cliche, but Leopold manages to express the feeling of freedom that comes with rising early. To me, being out in the early morning gives me a feeling of almost giddy excitement and energy, as if everyone else had suddenly vanished and I had a solitary claim on anywhere I went. I often got that feeling while bike touring- I would start riding shortly after sunrise, and I would have the cool gold light and long shadows to myself for a time before seeing the first car on the road or tractor chugging through the fields.

Waking up early can be a way for me to feel like I have an extra degree of control over my surroundings. Work and other obligations are still hours away, housemates are still in bed. I can tiptoe out for an early bike ride and make it back home to make breakfast and coffee without the clutter of idle, necessary interactions. Of course, the solitude is bound to be broken, but it's nice to experience the illusion of calm control that the morning brings.

From Sunrise on Camel's Hump

New stuff down the path

Here's some new street art that recently popped up on one of the bike paths around town. The words are spaced about thirty feet apart as the path goes down a steep hill. They're far enough apart so bikers can only see one word at a time as they ride down the hill. The message serves as a reminder of what a bike ride is good for: putting aside one's problems and realizing that life can be simple, if only for the length of the ride.