Last night the cold front moved into our area; this morning it was high winds from the north, mist and drizzle and it felt cold. No ride today, but yesterday I had a beautiful workout in the northern hills. It was a good idea, because the Aubrey McClendon memorial was suffering serious neglect. I cleaned it up and rearranged some fallen stuff. I pushed all the fake flowers into the ground and moved the little night-lights in closer, and hung stuff that had fallen. No, I never knew him, but I have this thing about graves and memorials, especially where no one has a clue why he died.
I passed the memorial on the outbound leg, riding straight up Midwest Boulevard to Memorial Road. From there I rode east to Douglas and stayed straight on the road, which took me north, curving under the east end of Arcadia Lake. At Post Road I headed back south. My aim was to enjoy a hard workout in the brutal hills up in this part of the county. About the time the hills ran out southbound on Post Road, I spotted this little private graveyard called Chitwood Cemetery. It’s well kept despite no recent graves.
Rolling down the slope into the North Canadian Valley again, I stopped near an open field because the voice of God’s Presence struck like thunder in the ears of my heart. It was one of those powerful moments without words but full of meaning, making me weep and stand in awe, seeing things hidden from mere eyes. When the roaring in my soul calmed down, I turned and took this shot facing back upslope whence I’d come.
I zigzagged my way back to Midwest Boulevard and headed into the gentle breeze back toward the bridge. There were off-roaders in the area, and more arrive before I got away from the place. They are really pushing out new trails all around this area, including a new one that drops down onto the massive sandbar dropped by the river as it rounds against the new stonework done last year. Aside from the refreshed flows upstream on the river, some of the local tributaries are running off the occasional drizzle and light rain in our area. So the river was up a little, but between the silt dropped and the flattening effect of the work done in order for the heavy equipment to plant all those massive rocks, it runs wide and shallow on the west side of the bridge. You could see the tracks from four-wheelers in the exposed sandbar. And not just those ATVs, but full-sized Jeeps are now starting to run some of the trails here. So far as I know, it’s all legitimate under the recreational development plans for the river banks out here.
It was about a 28-mile ride. As I type this the forecast says we are in for falling temperatures, staying below freezing Thursday and Friday. But a week from today it should be back up to 60°F (16C). I’ll just have to accept a forced hiatus from riding, because we’ll have high winds and snow for a few days.
I also tend to have moments when I feel like crying without knowing why. I usually stuff it down because Doug gets ugly when I cry. I would like to hear more about these events. I very much want to come see you. But it will have to be in warmer weather. love you much.
Sent from Windows Mail
I’ve had a prophetic gift since I can remember, but only in the past few years have I managed to push aside the distractions that made it useless. It’s hard to describe, but I suppose I can say that each time this hits me hard like that, it’s pre-loading something that will take meaning at some future point when the context matches the message. I’m learning to stop when the voice calls. Here lately it’s been almost like nagging; every time I slow down from activity, it rumbles in the background. I still have to take care of my human existence, but when I’m not busy it comes back to the front of my attention. Also, those overwhelming moments are more like rapture than pain.