tree lined streets

To bicycle, to fly. This is how I feel. I miss living in the warm flatland over there, where you are, when cruising on my ancient stop/go bicycle was the closest to a flying dream I could have with my eyes wide open.

It isn't the same over here where the hills are many, the cement is ad infinitum and it takes 20 minutes to ride to the park.

Yes, early morning rides and twighlight rides are my favorite, the fragrance of the earth and air seem to communicate messages directly to my soul, bypassing all temporal worries or cares, and making them all nano-elements in the scheme of things.

This may seem silly, but it does have something to do with how I've kept myself from moving into a "larger" position in my avocation...I absolutely love wearing my jeans, sneakers and an old teeshirt and riding my one speed through town...I always wonder how that would look to people who come to me for professional help during business hours? Would they trust me, repect me as they see the simple, perhaps childish way I derive my joy?

I keep trying to get CW to want to move over there. I'd much rather be there than anywhere, coasting down tree-lined streets in the cool morning to my early morning coffee as the town wakes up.