... of the rest of our lives
That's what I said to Cuppa on Sunday night. I say it from time to time. Generally, it's akin to saying that tomorrow is a new day, that it's time to move on from today. It's true every day, of course, but it was especially appropriate on Sunday evening because the unpacking and setting up were pretty much done. On Monday morning, we would be more or less free to do (more or less) whatever we wanted.
Of course, you just knew that would involve bicycles. Didn't you? My back finally seemed mended enough to contemplate a slow and gentle ride, for, as strange as it might seem, pedalling is frequently easier on my lumbar than standing or walking or cooking, especially cooking.
After several setbacks (to which, having just deleted four paragraphs, I won't subject you), we headed out late Monday morning. Almost as soon as we got on the path, we passed an older lady walking her two dogs. We greeted Rosie (for we later had opportunity to discover her name) cheerily as we pedalled by, rounded several bends, and came upon a deer who, of course, quickly bolted: so quickly that Cuppa had to rely on my eyewitness account. What a delightful thing to happen on the first day of the rest of our lives! But more was in store.
Around a few more bends, we came upon a couple out walking their poodle, Bo. As things turned out, we soon found ourselves standing beside our bicycles, having a nice, long chat with the couple, Ron and Rollie: so long of a chat that Rosie and her dogs eventually caught up with us. And then another lady and her dog came from the other direction, and we all had a merry confabulation. It was quite a dog day, for we later met and parleyed with a guy named Dave who was strolling with his dog, whom you see emerging from the Unmighty Mississippi River in the photo below.
That seemed like a pretty good beginning to the rest of our lives: seeing the deer and meeting and chatting with several people and their several dogs. But another wonder was about to occur.
Rounding yet another bend, we paused to look around prior to turning around and heading back toward home. Just then, Cuppa looked up and saw some Canada Geese on the horizon, flying in their V formation. Then we saw another V, and another, and ... and they kept on coming ... and flying right over our heads. Wave after wave. Hundreds and hundreds of geese flapping and honking, honking and flapping. We watched in awed stupefaction at this benediction, and the geese honked their amens.
I think that qualifies as rather a fine first day of the rest of our lives. Don't you?