Bye Bye Schwinn!

I sold the Schwinn Super Sport. Since it went to someone who plans to give it new life, I may see it's pretty red frame someday cruising Burlington's streets.

Now I feel much better about a planned splurge on new panniers later this summer. Or earlier.

Path of Thoughts

Will my beloved hay rolls survive as new housing consumes the landscape?

As I pedaled home yesterday, I passed an old sign for The Ride of Silence, an organized group ride that recognizes cyclists killed in automobile collisions. At the same time, traffic was heavier than I remember it being in a long time. I soon passed one of two construction sites. New housing is slowly replacing open fields. A year from now, my commute could be very different.

Man (collectively) is forever digging, moving dirt from one place to another.

It's easy to see how thoughts could drift in a downward spiral. However, I was determined to remain positive.

Ivy climbed the sign and twisted into the air. Artistic.

A tailwind was like nature's hand, pushing me home. Recent rain brought out the lilac scent, puddles on the road. On a separate pathway now, I passed a baseball field. Little Leaguers practiced. I liked the sound of metal bat connecting with ball, the ping like a sharp bell. Two boys practiced toss and catch smack in the path. Not sure why they weren't in the grass. I slowed and rang my bell. A parent immediately instructed the boys to move aside and let me pass. I smiled, thanking them.

It's times like this that we should curb our tempers and show patience, tolerance, kindness, and generosity. Appreciate birds, smell nature's perfume, smile at children's laughter. I also noticed beautiful patterns as the wet asphalt dried...

...and an old style lamppost in a new housing development.

Change is inevitable. How we perceive it and adapt is the key.

Pedal on and enjoy your commute.

Italy - Saint Peter's Basilica & the Appian Way

Follow New Posts in the Around The World series on Mondays.

Click here for the Introduction.

31 miles - Saturday, October 15

We pack up and ride to Saint Peter's Square. Because of the tourist's throng it's prime location for theft. Andy offers to stay behind with the bikes, taking first watch while I slip a paisley skirt over my shorts to comply with regulations.

Saint Peters Basilica is the largest cathedral in the world. As I step into its cooler interior, red, white, and green marble covers the floor, the walls, columns. I am in awe. I've always loved churches for their solitude, a place for contemplation, but this space is unique. I feel it's historical significance, its grandeur. It has riches beyond compare. Tall columns line the interior. Bernini's Bronze Canopy, supported by four ornate, twisted columns stands beneath the main dome, which towers 120 meters overhead. The dome itself, full of scenes, with the light filtering downward from its green and golden hues, is breathtaking.

An example of one of many 10 foot high paintings.

Every wall is highly decorated. Panels of Renaissance art. Cherub sculptures. Gilded Latin writing. There are wooden confessionals, each one in a different language. Incense faintly perfumes the air. Several 10-foot high canvases painted by famous artists and many colossal statues adorn the basilica. Visitors are but specks. Footsteps sound like whispers. The whole effect is grandiose yet unpretentious. I am thankful the Vatican preserves artistic wealth and keeps it in the public eye. Full of riches, Saint Peters holds the power to entrance, to understand the influential role the Vatican plays in this region. Even for far reaching prayers, as Andy notices later, a candle lit for the Bosnian/Serbian conflict.

Bernini's Bronze Canopy

There is a better photo of La Pieta here.

In an alcove, I stumble on Michelangelo’s La Pieta, protected behind glass. It's smaller than I expected, but to understand the artist carved this beautiful sculpture at 21 years old, the intricate expressions, the draped clothing, all sculpted from a minuscule marble block...it brings me to tears. And I hadn't even seen the Sistine Chapel. Michelangelo’s culmination of his life's work, drawing on existing plans and forming a cohesive architectural plan for Saint Peters Basilica, is a tribute and lasting testament to a great artist.

Out in the heat, we confer on the 15.00 per person admittance to the Sistine Chapel and decide to bypass a visit. The chapel is currently under restoration, also. It's a difficult decision, however, not knowing when or if we'll ever return.

Andy, on the left, while a local pedals by the Colosseum.

We pedal eastward across the city, now unafraid to ride down the wide avenues. We stop at the Colosseum again, mainly to gobble pizza slices we'd purchased. We visit briefly with two guys from Colorado on mountain bikes who we'd run into the previous day. They'd spent their first night in the woods. On a five week holiday, their plan is to catch a ferry to Sardinia and eventually to Greece. Andy and I clued them into Italian customs. At the same time they explained the Colosseum today was free to visitors. We took advantage of this news and took turns gawking at the oval interior before heading out of Rome.

A drawing in my journal.

Inside the Colosseum.

Aqueduct on the Appian Way.

We wait at a traffic light with Port San Sebastian arch ahead, an ancient entrance once connected to Rome's walls. Three gypsy kids skillfully begged, moving around the cars. One girl has an infant on her back, coaxing it to look sad and hungry.

Past the arch we leave the city behind and gain the Appian Way, one of the oldest roads left from the Roman Empire. It connects Rome to southern portions, once a strategic, “appian”, means “queen” or long distance road. We quickly pedal a one way, low trafficked paved road along a broad, open ridge. The landscape is dry. Intact aqueducts surprisingly appear in the distance. A few pine trees line the Appian Way, where two high-heeled prostitutes step out, one dressed in red miniskirt, and wiggle an index finger at my husband. We chuckle at their brazenness. It seems like some scenarios remain unchanged, the same profession once tempting Roman legionnaires.

By way of back roads we reach the coast at dusk. With numerous directions we encounter two closed campgrounds. At the second place, the manager understands our situation, allowing us to stay the night. Showers are not available, but water and pit toilet suffice. Grazie! We eat a hearty meal of pesto con pasta and wash it down with a 2.00 bottle of Merlot. And call it an early night.

Spring Fragrance

Pardon the closed eyes.

When a morning shower passed by, the lilac bushes perfumed the whole city. It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "heaven sent". In this case "heaven scent" is more appropriate. Add those flowering wonders to the multitude of blossoming crab apple and cherry trees, and it's aromatic bliss.

Because of the early rain, my son and I took the bus to his school. When I met him later we walked home together. At least until he commandeers my bike...

...and rides it like a scooter. I think he missed his skateboard. I wasn't particularly anxious to ride anyway. There are too many fragrant trees to dawdle under, inhaling as I go. The wonders of Spring are fleeting. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

Bike Love - On the House

I've admired houses that have interesting stuff propped outside, especially using an exterior wall as exhibit space. Grapevine wreaths. Stars. A flag. Teddy bear above mailbox. I've seen an artist display bold, colorful paintings on a porch where they're protected from the elements. For a while I had my son's art posted outside our house, a homemade wooden "A" painted red with yellow polka dots, then a tacky wooden duck with metal wings straight from the 1970s that my husband collected from a friend's trash heap. Our kids glued on stone eyes. Gave it to me for Mother's Day. I decorated that duck with red ribbon for Christmas. Then it fell apart. I still miss that funky bird.

Enter this metal Penny Farthing. I found it in the basement when I searched for red stain to revive our picnic table. My grandmother gave it to me 25 years ago. It's a reminder of her heartfelt generosity and—as often happens when our loved ones leave us—we cherish their possessions or little reminders that forever hold them in our thoughts. With a quick swipe of the paint brush, the bike seat is now red. I love this appropriate and cheerful addition to our home canvas.

This one's a keeper.

Frogs and Cows Love Rain

W'eve been in a drought for a while. Wildfires popped up, which is an usual occurrence for the Northeast. So, with the onset of dark skies, thunder, and wetness falling from the heavens just before I hopped on my bike for the ride home from work, I didn't care that I forgot my rain gear.

Frogs chirped loudly as if there was a celebration in the wetlands. And I laughed out loud as I passed a dairy farm. The cows inside the barn bellowed! Too early for miking time. They knew it was finally raining. Probably dreaming of fresh grass to come.

I felt like singing. Wide grins. Cooling wetness on my sandaled feet. I love the earthy smell emanating from wet pavement. I turn my watch face downward on my wrist. Drink long swigs from my water bottle. Listen to gravel as it collects on my front tire and scrapes around inside of fender. Have to look into that later.

A big collective sigh. Bring on the rain.

More Reflectors

I'm proud of this simple fix. I discovered the Schwinn Super Sport had these nice little reflectors that I could easily transfer to the Ross. Voila! And, while looking more closely, I discovered the Ross also has orange reflectors on each toe clip. No more grumbling about lack of visibility. I'm happy now.