6 • The Beacon August 24 , 2023

Don ’ t wait to enjoy your days and the little things

Though nesting season is drawing to a close in August , the birds still awaken just a bit before dawn , conversing to other birds in tongues I do not know , nor can I speak . But the scriptures tell us the Lord gives to some the gift of interpretation .

I find my spirit catching the gist of the birdies ’ dialects this morning . This is what I imagine them saying in their summery , singsongy August voices : “ This is my space . This is my day . I ’ m awaiting the pleasure of today ’ s sunshineful rays !”

As is my summer Saturday morning custom , I rolled out to check the observable weather and a weather app ’ s take on the next two hours . Ten seconds later I note AI , my eyes , blue skies , sunshine and a pleasant temperature are synchronizing perfectly . Time to go !

I donned some biking apparel , strapped myself onto my bike and began the

leisurely sprint across the top of Ridgewood toward Hillcrest Drive , better known locally as Heated Hill .

I have never ridden in an F-16 , but assuming a crouched position and dodging the potholes and slick spots formed by the ever-flowing springs bubbling up under the road , I always feel like a fighter pilot on a bombing run . The wind tears through the shell of my helmet as I soar past Severn Drive and Batchelor ’ s Place .

Now comes the exciting part . I resume a more upright biking stance and begin pumping the brakes . “ Rip ” the Great Pyrenees pup of the Kirkpatricks is most often my wingman . His white fur flying in the wake of his 150 pounds makes him look like a hairy ghost . I wonder how many volts it takes in that underground doggy fence to keep that enthusiastic greeter on his side of the driveway ?

Because I ’ m still coming in fairly hot , the hope for the bottom of the hill is no cars are coming and that I can thread the needle left of the two manhole covers , still slick with the morning dew . Made it !

The joy of not being eaten by Rip , hitting a car or wiping out across 35 yards of that end of Kensington Road has the endorphins exploding and dancing throughout my brain and central nervous system in a most indescribable fashion . Heading out past the high school , up Cambridge toward the water tower , is a bit of a wind sucker , but then there ’ s that repeat rush of a ride down Cassingham Hollow . Today I decide to ride on through to downtown , hit Second Street ,

then catch the bike path through Lake Park .

One of the many things that makes Lake Park a fun bike ride is all the opportunities for people watching as they look you over . The single runners are often quite singularly focused , but the folks in groups always have lots of smiles and “ how ’ s it goings ” — same for the friendly walkers who seem to have more breath for a line or two of conversation before I zip out of range .

Gliding by the campsites , the campers may or may not respond , depending on their state of precaffeination affairs . The Lake Park loop always rides quick , and I ’ m soon back on 1-A heading toward the farmers market at Skip ’ s Landing . Never too early to be thinking about supper , I rolled in across the limestone parking lot , parking my bike toward the river ’ s edge while I strolled through the market .

My friend Ann from the school board was there hawking some mighty finelooking vegetables . They were all washed up , standing tall and pretty as they were looking on the vine , stalk or stem two hours earlier when she had picked them . We chatted a bit while I bought six ears of corn .

The Ruth and Boaz coffee folks were there . I asked the gal if she had uncovered and slept near the fellow ’ s feet last night ( inside joke for the Bible readers ). They both laughed and assured me that wasn ’ t the case . A little gal watched shyly as I poked through her mama ’ s merchandise to come up with a peck of new potatoes . Though I was now loaded up for supper , it was breakfast that was calling to me . I peddled across the bridge , up Locust Street , heading toward the post office .

“ Aren ’ t you scared somebody will steal your bike and goods , leaving it out here unlocked ?” teased

an elderly man as we walked into the post office together . “ Nobody else awake yet besides us , and I ’ ve got my eye on you ,” I replied .

“ Jonesy ” moved a little slower than many might , but after all , the guy was 91 . He said he used to weigh 300 pounds and couldn ’ t believe how much better he felt after going on the Second Street diet .

He looked to be in pretty good shape to me . I ’ d never heard of the Second Street diet and inquired of him as to just what that might be . He laughed and said he finally quit trying to eat all the food on Second Street all the time , switching to just coffee instead . Now I was the one laughing . Maybe I should try that ? Nah !

I bought the half sheet of stamps I needed , beat Jonesy to my bike and headed for home .

Even if I weren ’ t pedal-

See ENJOY Page 9

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The Coshocton County Beacon August 23, 2023 | Page 6

Don ’ t wait to enjoy your days and the little things

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