There was blue in the sky in the early morning hours, before 6:00 am, before the sun. I dreamed of riding my bike on the trail today, of checking the tires and shocks, searching for my bike shoes, and what biking pants I should wear: shorts or leggings, or something in between. Of how many times I could ride the level stretch between the horse trail bridge and the picnic shelter, of racking up 20 miles or so. And what that would feel like, if my legs would burn and my heart would pound, or if I'd feel great.
But instead, I took my camera for a walk on the horse trail, the secret stretch that most people don't even know exists. I let my camera be my eyes, and found much to enjoy.
The wee burro who came close, but not too close, to say hello.
The vast carpets of buttercups.
The honey bees swarming over fragrant blossoms.
The overgrown trail, narrowed to a singletrack, rising to a spirea in full bloom.
I couldn't have found a better way to spend a few hours than this.