Relative Something

It feels like we are waiting for the grand chorus of an epic chart-busting anthem to crescendo and meld all the disparate elements of our lives into a satisfying resolution of peaceful bliss. Another way of saying, “another day, another dollar.” Every day is unique but it feels like the same things keep happening in each different day.

Bright sunshine. Big booming dark clouds. Gushing flood of rainfall. Bright sunshine. Hot steam evaporating. Insects hatching. Humidity rising. Big booming dark clouds return.

Between the dramatic downpours, we try to chip away at one or two outdoor projects that we can achieve despite the swampy conditions left by the cloudbursts.

Being quarantined on our property for the last three weeks has served to make me aware that it is unusual for us not to go out for some reason this many days in a row. Oh, wait, we drove up to get Asher last weekend. I already forgot. Never mind.

I’m just getting punchy because I haven’t felt like doing much of anything, yet innumerable things deserve to be done. I include getting some extended hours on my bike seat which hasn’t happened in far too long despite the Tour of Minnesota week of riding starting in just ten days.

Weather, or not. [it’s a battle to play with words with autocorrect on]

And you can bet we will see some weather while pedaling the pavement and camping in tents. In the 25 years I’ve ridden this adventure in June, there was only one time that the weather was gorgeous every single day. It was my first year in 1994.

I am doing my best to hang on to my sensibilities and accept whatever happens next. Planning has become optional.

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