Sometimes the best thing we can do is to just sit and watch. Nowadays, however, this sedentary exercise may not be of interest as our mutual cloistering is chock full of lonely pursuits. But to sit and enjoy what nature is serving up to us at the end of July should not be considered sedentary but active as it should bring all of our senses to the fore. For me, the best to do that is to go for a bicycle ride.
I feel fortunate to live where I do in Connecticut near the New York border. If I hop on my bike, which I do often, I can find myself in bucolic North Salem, N.Y., within 10 minutes. Beyond the famous residents such as David Letterman and expansive mansions and horse farms, lies a pristine land that is bisected by unpaved roads. It doesn’t seem possible that Gotham with its millions of residents and gleaming towers is less than 50 miles to the south.
The crunch of gravel underneath the tires is the dominant noise as I traverse my riding circuit. There is much beauty in my daily rides but it is when I stop to rest on the side of the road that I have the chance to appreciate the innate beauty of the area. The unimproved road splits large rolling fields that could be found in an Andrew Wyeth painting. A slight breeze bends the tops of the grasses, which have just started to set seed. The sides of the road are lined with black cherry (Prunus serotina), maple (Acer) and ash (Fraxinus) trees. Pin oaks (Quercus palustris) have been planted in anticipation of the demise of the ashes. Unlike the other trees, whose shadows create dense shade, the ashes’ shadows are skeletons portending their future. The flowers of chicory (Cichorium intybus) appear as light blue ribbons lining the road with occasional yellow spikes of mullein (Verbascum thapsus) flowers shooting high above the grassy soil. Buttercups (Ranunculus acris) are sprinkled around in patches of yellow amongst the dandelions (Taraxacum officinale) and red clover (Trifolium pratense.) The umbrella-shaped white flowers of Queen Anne’s lace (Daucus carota) stands tall waiting for pollinators.
The stone walls that line the road are hosting strands of Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia) and poison ivy (Toxicodendron radicans) that are fighting for dominance and looking to cover the rocks they are embracing. Swallows are flying erratically and chirping following the insects they are attempting to catch. Though most insects cannot be seen, their chorus is the loudest noise that I now hear. Grasshoppers jump in a frenetic hop scotch pattern over the fields. Bees and wasps fly near, preferring a nearby flower rather than me to land on.
Though I would like to linger, the heat of the day is coming as the high clouds start to part. I stand, taking in the perfume of the fields. As I leave my rest spot, the insects are drowned out by the popping sounds of gravel and any excess heat I was feeling is being blown away as I increase my speed.