Bug-splats

Today, Thursday, I need to work a few hours at my part-time job. I need to go by the credit union to withdraw cash to pay the housecleaners on Friday. And Sir Edward, my 1999 Ford Explorer, desperately needs a bath from our recent mountain excursion last Friday. So many bug-splats dotted across his windshield and hood and front grill. The automobile, another invention of humans that kills bugs. I didn't invent the machine, but as the machine operator, I am guilty.

That is a lot to accomplish today. I may fall short. And that is okay.

Friday, I really, really want to drive to the mountains and ride my bike. The mountains are usually 10 to 15 degrees cooler than where I live, here in the piedmont. I'm thankful the natural air conditioning is within an hour or so drive. Of course, I'll kill more bugs in the process especially on the drive home in the evening. I guess the bugs are attracted to the headlights, and that's why so many get splattered across Edward's face.

Riding my bike brings relief to my body and mind and emotions. I often ride alongside the New River, graced by the changing scenery of giant, ancient rocks holding up the mountains and of gentle rolling pastures with cows grazing like gentle giants, and the display of trees and wild flowers, and especially the fir and balsam trees whom I have called the guardians of the mountains because they wear their deep green all year long including through the winter months when the gentle shade trees drop their leaves. The conifer trees are another of the gentle giants, reminding me of faithfulness, like the sun and the moon; reminding me of strength and flexibility having endured sub-zero temperatures, ice and snow, howling strong winds, and lightening and heat.

I don't kill many bugs when riding my bike, even when it's dark out and I have to use my headlight. The bicycle, another invention of humans, but much gentler than the automobile. A cyclist can't help but eat a few bugs on a ride. I consider them low-calorie, low-fat protein.