Wish I could hold the images and sounds from this morning’s ride

The Canada geese honking on the Genesee River

The statue in front of Bausch & Lomb as I turned the corner

St. Mary’s Church to my left

The dead pigeon on the side of the road, only partially flattened

The throng of people at the bus stop at Main and Clinton

Everyone in line for coffee and donuts as I wheel into the building

I found this essay by Albany cyclist Nathaniel Ward via Ron Silliman’s blog:

In many ways I feel like I didn’t really know the area in which I live until I started riding bikes seriously. Things are both much nearer and much farther than I had imagined them to be, more accessible and less, too. The immediacy of the Self to art, to politics, to society at large, as experience by the pedestrian is what de Certeau is getting at. From the perspective of the cyclist, though, it is different yet again in that the physiological transformation that equates to greater fitness allows spatial relationships between geographic points to become diminished. So my world is larger as a competitive cyclist in that I can ride my bike from Albany, NY to visit my brother in Northampton, MA, for instance–a ride of roughly 85 miles–and at the same time it is smaller. Smaller in the sense that an average day’s training ride has the potential to bridge a social and emotional distance, and larger because what this amounts to is a choice. And choice amounts to social mobility.

Read the rest of the article.

Poet Nikki Giovanni was on Bill Moyers’ Journal last week talking about her new book of poetry, Bicycles. She also talks about bicycles as a metaphor for life and reads her poem, “Bicycles.”

Watch the show.

I drove to Shaftsbury, VT, today to visit one of the houses in which poet Robert Frost lived. It was in this house — known as the Stone House — that he wrote “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening.” Just as most of the classic Xmas albums were recorded in the summer, this quintessential poem about winter was written in July.

After touring the house, I took a stroll over to the barn, where I found this:

From Robert Frost's Stone House

Was Frost a cyclist?

Here are my other pics from the trip: