The smoke had finally cleared the air as I looked out early this morning, observing the clouds and sun from the opened front door. There is a big wildfire over in Brevard County which has been named Iron Horse. The smoke fills the skies and soot falls all over in Osceola County when the winds blow from the East. I looked out, watching the sun fill the eastern sky with a smile on my face. I love the sun. A light, steady wind showed me that the seabreeze was alive and kicking already, briskly blowing, enabling me to shiver when the wind blew through the screened door. My house faces east. If I had nothing in front of my house I could observe every sunrise as it rose in the skies. But, alas. The breeze itself felt slightly cooler than the previous mornings, so I left to go check the weather status online. 60. A little bit nippy after a week of almost 90 degrees. Getting dressed I had 30 minutes to dress, feed and motivate my 8 years old. I reflect that being as it is my only day off, I am already crammed mentally with too many things I wish to get done today. Typical. Apparently not enough thought was made in the length of the day hours. I could use about a 15 hours day. Too many projects, too little time. My first and foremost is to get my ride in this morning. Hurrying around the house, I pick up this and that and grab my cup of orange coffee and head out on the back porch to inhale the intense aroma of orange blossoms which put me asleep last night while wafting through my bedroom windows. The is no finer smell in the world with perhaps the exception of a gardenia. I check out the garden, walking along the rows and feel really good. I finally got no one to bother me on this one. I've done it all myself and I feel absolutely as though it is for the time being my little child in a sense. It's all organic and I can't wait to see the fruition of my labors. The garden is coming along fine, some seeds still have not sprouted, but then we've been in an awful drought now thanks to La Nina. It rained yesterday, finally. They called for big thunderstorms to arrive and we first got a tease, and then a downpour which lasted a whole 10 minutes. Top that with highs in the mid 80's to lower 90's and you've got a recipe for disaster. This is Florida. We get some excellent years, and then some really bad ones. The weather is very fickle here.
Gathering my son and trying to light a fire under his arse is routine. He's a master procrastinator. Getting him actually to the door and out in the morning takes a good 15 minutes of reminders. As we exit the garage, we head out toward Saint Cloud Elementary where he is enrolled in second grade. Ms Besser. He's in the Gifted Program. He never leaves the classroom anymore. The air makes us both shiver. The front moved through yesterday morning with the rain. Oh sure, the thunderstorms came; they just stayed north of here. I think we were lucky if we got 1/2 inch. Thus, now, the air is much cooler and damp which makes us cold. My son remarks that he is happy that I insisted that he put on his jacket. It's a silent observation on my part. Alexander is now at a stage where he's not quite as talkative as once, and he rarely volunteers much information. We pedal quickly, hoping that the workout will warm us. Probably would if the wind was not blowing so much against us as we head east on New Nolte. I take note that the Drake Elms that were bare just 3 weeks ago, now are covered in their pretty green leaves, and even the bald cypress are showing signs of Spring. I love the green, green color of spring against the blue skies. That smell is the most wondrous of all seasons, clean, crisp with a tad bit of warmth thrown in. It's the smell of new leaves, flowers, and freshly cut grass. The smell of the water. Spring is definitely my favorite season and it's absolutely deadpan gorgeous here in Florida. The nectarines and peaches, dogwoods and camellias have already finished blooming, but now we've got the redbuds, tabebuias, azaleas, hibiscus, bottlebrushes and powderpuff bushes going at in full strength. Soon the jacarandas, amaryllis, allamandas, and African Iris will soon follow. We always have something blooming here, reckon that's why Florida is La Florida, Land of Flowers. And sunshine. And monsoons, and droughts. We take life with excitement here. Throw in some peppers and you've got a real salad going.
I look over at Alexander. He's not too happy with the change of weather. He's complaining that it's cold, although he told oh how much he loves skiing. The penetrating damn cold is still noticeable despite the growing sun. I know only too well, that within 30 mins or so, things will start to get very nice. This morning ride is going to be utterly pleasant. About half way to school another child shows up riding and Alexander, never one to pass up a challenge, actually starts to race the other kid. There's no pleasure on his face, in fact, he would not admit to even being remotely aware of the other kid's presence. It's just, the other kid isn't going to get ahead of him. I see that in his face. This motivation from him is good for me because we are now riding quickly and not puttering as most of the ride to school is in the shade and I am so ready to feel ole sun on my body. Arriving at SCE, I give my son a hug and kiss goodbye, tell him to mind his manners, make me proud and help his teacher and then dash down Budinger to 192. Crossing over 192, which always makes my blood pressure go haywire, I've decided that I am going to just do 25 miles afterall, enough time to reflect on things running through my mind, get some exercising done and commune with the Ole Gal about maybe having some pity on us and sending us a nice rainstorm. I ride down Columbia, which was Budinger on the other side, to 9th Avenue where I then turn right. I note, happily, that they've managed to resurface the road and fill in the potholes that were as big as some of the little kids swimming pools. They had become a real triall for my bike. If there is a car passing me, I've got no option but to stop. During rainy season, when the rain literally covers the road, you can have a real dip in the water if you don't remember just where the dagummit pothole is. Rains during monsoon season make it impossible to gauge just how deep some of these nuisances are. Apparently the City got enough complaints.
Turning left onto Louisiana, I ride down to Lake Tohopekaliga, the eastern side, cut by levees in which the other side is over in Kissimmee. The waterfront is teeming with life. We are so blessed here in this part of Florida to have one of the highest concentration of birds in the world. Herons, egrets, cranes, limpkins of all sorts, and then of course, the smaller birds which abound all year round. Today on my ride, I've noticed quite a few red tipped blackbirds. Reckon it must be migratory season. There are still a few killdeers here and there, but they will soon be gone for the season. Killdeers are funny little birds. Watching them is quite entertaining and at times they will actually run in front of my bike, not fly, run for quite a few feet. They are amusing in their displays in pretended injury and will hobble away as though their wing is broken. It's comical to watch their fake attempts at pretending to be wounded.
At the rest area, I realize that it's finally warmed up enough for me to want to remove my outer jersey, and remove my helmet in exchange for headphones. Riding without music can become boring in my case. I am not out there to win a trophy; I am out there to take everything in and thoroughly enjoy my existence. I love the sense of a story movement in my mind, so much in synch with the flow of the wheels under my feet and the wind in my face. My imagination becomes much more colorful, intense and free. I don't get a hundred feet from the rest area when out of the corner of my eye I catch a most delightful sight. At only 8:30 in the morning, a man is out on Lake Toho water kite surfing. I really have no choice but to stop and thoroughly enjoy this entertainment. It is an absolute pleasure, watching someone else enjoying what they like to do with such gusto and joy. Free to the wind. Joy in expression. I also admire his courage as it is a fact that that is some cold water out yonder. I can't help but snap a few pictures here and there, trying to capture the expression of real joy, but all I've got is the cell phone. This is me at my most spontaneous. I go out to do one thing and end up doing something else. So typical of me. I can almost feel the intensity of the guy's joy as he is pulled up by the sail into the air, over and over again. That's got to be one fascinating adrenaline rush going on there. Right as I am about to leave, he loses his board which falls from his feet and splashes into the water. He's forced to swim over to retrieve it I laugh and woop. He waves, I wave. It's a bonding of sort; we both know that each other appreciates a familiarity. He's yelling something at me, but I can't hear him, I remove my headphones but it's hopeless. He motions to me to come down to the waterfront pass the beach. I shake my head negatively, laugh and yell, "maybe next time". He waves as I replace my headphones and clip my cleats into my clips. I give him the thumbs up and take off.
I scan the trail for any possible problems (there are lots of folks out taking in the morning) and I am promptly rewarded with a running buddy. A four legged golden lab, who looks as though he has been harassing the water fowl for a while. He's dripping wet but takes to me and won't let me be. I look around for the owner, but to no avail. Ah, someone's dog got loose. He follows me aside my bike until we reach the end of the trail and then I am perplexed. He can't follow me as I am going out onto Rummell Road, so I enlist the help of one of the construction guys to please hold the dog while I leave. Smelly, wet Fido will eventually find more pleasure in running into the water after the birds, but folks need to be more careful around the lakes here with their dogs. We all know what a gator's best meal is. Either that or a sandhill crane is fixing to put a dent in his hide.
Riding down Mississippi, I turn left onto Rummell Road and stop and snap a few pictures of the gold and pink tabebuias blooming, our premium flowering tree of Central Florida.
I'd love to find a jacaranda with their lavender blue flowers, but I don't think they've done put to bloom quite yet. Next to the house is indeedy a real purple house. The camera doesn't do it justice; it is truly a deep lavender purple, so I reckon this makes up for the lack of jacarandas.
The sign in front of me shows the Narcoossee Route or the East Loop, neither of which I am actually doing and I am wanting to get down the tall Norfolk Pine directly across the street to show our stately Christmas tree of the below the Orlando line of evergreens. We do have Christmas trees, but they have soft needles and they aren't as full as spruces or firs, but they are mighty beautiful if I may say so. Most don't get as tall as their potential due to their breakage from the tops when the mighty canes decide to pay us a visit from time to time. Wonder if they have big storms in the Norfolk Islands?
Further down the road I encounter another problem; the entire bike path has deteriorated and sunk in the side of the road like a caved in depression. As traffic is heavy this morning and folks go a tad bit too fast down this road, I am forced to stop as I have nowhere to maneuver out into the road. Clipping and unclipping is a pain in the arse. I make a mental note to call the city to remify this problem. I am not one for having to deal with this again a month from now and veering into the road is not my top choice as I don't hear well. The rule of the thumb is, if it's not reported and an accident occurs, then the city cannot be held liable. Then I think, they could forget the phone call, so best to put it in writing or an email.
A minute later, I am tempted to stop at the newly developed environmental site, set aside as a preservation area on Lake Runnymeade. I am forced to dismount and unclip and walk through the sandy area since my very teeny tiny thin wheels can't handle anything less than concrete or asphalt. Not that they handle that very well all the time either. Can they make roads like my old high school track? Riding through here is going to force me to bring the hybrid or the Giant VT, which is my son's bike, but seeing that we are both pretty much the same size, shouldn't be too much of a problem. The problem is that, like the two road bikes, the other two bikes also need maintenance. Why my son never rides is beyond my comprehension. He has the perfect body for cycling. My bike now has about 7000 miles on it in 1.5 years and it definitely needs a new chain and a new front derailleur. On top of that, a new rear cassette. Groan. I absolutely don't know what I'd do if my bike broke down completely. So, 4 bikes, all with repairs needing to get done. Maybe I should start maintaining them like some women do jewelry. Think I am too mucn the rough and tumble type.
As I am about the leave the conservation area, I observe a few hikers coming through. I really have a desire to walk through the trails and observe them, but I am too sore pressed for time. I am going to have to put this one on the back burner for a tad bit. Back on Rummell, I head east about another mile and then turn right onto Reflections Cove. Last time I was here a couple of weeks ago, I was forced to ride the roads around the subdivision which is boring and tedious to say the least. It's nice that there is no traffic and thus no interruptions, but still! Two weeks ago the trail around the Lake was closed due to drains, pipes and pumps. Now, I see that those are all gone, but the "Sidewalk Closed" signs still abound. There are 3 of them as I scan the area and make a mental note that they've got to go. No one is here and upon arrival at the first one I observe that the concrete is newly laid, but dry and hard to the touch. As I relocate the first sign on the southern part of the path to greener pasture, I keenly scope out the area and the surroundings as this is now March and the gators get very aggressive and territorial around this time of the year. So far in the last year, I've mentally tagged 9 of these guys ranging from a little 3 feet to one I've dubbed "Old Joe" who looked to be about 8 feet from snout to tip of tail. I even know where each one hangs out and where each little gator hole is in the lake. After hauling the sign to the side, I get back on the bike, adjust my headphones and I being my 10 laps around the Lake already having gotten 7 in, this will give me 12 more before I head back home to finish the final 7. While I love this time of the year for cycling, getting to enjoy the warmth of the sun, the seabreeze which is now not blowing bitter cold air into my face and through my skin chilling me to the bones, the seabreeze can still prove quite challenging for other reasons. It blows vigorously in the winter; in the spring it blows viciously at times. There is nothing worst that having a constant 25 mile wind one way and then nothing the other way. But it brings with it the wondrous smell of spring, the flowers, the groves, that smell off the lake, that peaty, mucky smell all bundled together and thrown in with the fresh scent of grass off the freshly cut lawns. I notice that the bald cypress have started putting out their "leaves" which are a beautiful shade of light green and soft to the touch like a feather. After a rainfall, these trees, with their barks almost a dark brown are extremely breathtaking when viewed in the early springtime. The only other tree I've seen that has an almost similar look is the dogwood. I have not seen a dogwood in bloom since I left North Florida over 8 years ago. I notice too that the Drake Elms are putting out their leaves, but the crape myrtles have yet to do so. I don't reckon it will be until late March when they do with a showing of color in late May. The queen palms are looking quite yellow in this subdivision due to the lack of fertilizing. I see signs of frizzle top already due to a lack of manganese. These palms are literally starving to death. I'm sure the drought isn't helping any.
As I reach the east side of the trail I have to stop again to remove yet another "Sidewalk Closed" sign. As I am moving this big, bulky, heavy piece of metal, while trying to hold my bike up with the rest of my body, I notice this shape in the water, rolling around and it looks like the size of a small beach ball. A dark, bobbing something. Not sure in my surprise what exactly it is, but I am intrigued to say the least. I stop and freeze, but I already am cursing the fact that I made a ton of noise moving the sign. The figure goes under water and disappears. What could it be? I am holding my breath, when about 8 feet in front of me it reappears, a little face looking up and right at me. It's a river otter! Adorable critter, but a nasty temper and worst than a backed up coon. This little fellow may look almost human, but he's got an awful and unpredictable temper. They are aggressive, kinda like cottonmouths; they can come right at ya. Back in November of last year a kid got attacked by a rabid one somewhere around here.
Thus, I am extremely cautious as this little guy has been moving closer to me, now only about 5 feet away. My guard instinct has kicked in and I am all too aware that I am in an area that if something happens, well, I really don't want to have to mess up my bike. The otter continues to display a curiosity that rivals my own and I get back on the bike and pedal a good 30 feet away and then stop and look back. I see him now sneaking across the dyke, looking at me back and forth as he makes a good splash for the water on the other side. What a comical sight; they look like a cross between a waddling duck and a seal when they move, but with more leg power. Of course, my curiosity has just been renewed and I turn around and go back to observe where it has gone, but alas, it is gone somewhere under water. I figure this may have been the same otter that I saw a few weeks ago. Quite frankly, I would not be surprised to meet up with her/him again.
Around and around I go, back on the bike. As I ride, I reflect upon the pros and cons of my psychological profile, or as it is known, typing. My thoughts on this excursion take on a new flow. Personality typing. As an INFJ with ADHD, I wonder just how it all goes together. Most folks I find, have a tendency to type cast too severely. While my personality traits as an INFJ certainly do allow me to be social, and I am, I need, desperately need, my downtime and perhaps my hyperactive need for exercising combined with my desire to cycle alone works out rather well. Of course, there on my ride, my rich imagination tends to gather and process information from the recess of my mind, questions pertaining to human behavior, a curiosity of sorts. The constant "why, why why?". This used to drive my mother crazy at times. That and the fact that my feeling get hurt easily and I have the tendency of just being very selective as to whom I would fully trust with my inner most thoughts. Couple that with my hearing impairment and one could realize, if they think profoundly, just how much I prefer a smaller group in a setting and how much I dislike large, loud crowds. My rambling thoughts this morning are basically an analytical tug of war, of pros and cons, or questioning, how my ADHD, hearing impairment and typing of being an INFJ all comes together. Has one affected one or the other to another degree? Has one or the other made each or one more dominant or less dominant? How does this all fit in with my introverted intuition, my extroverted feelings, my introverted thinking or my extroverted sensing? How does it all come together? Is one a hindrance or a blessing for the others? Sometimes I think that my hearing impairment enhances that awful, and yes, I call it awful because there are somethings you just don't want to be aware of, sense of intuition that tells me more than I want to know or "see". Behavior modification. I've learned how to act accordingly with this combination of intuitiveness and my loss of hearing which makes that sense kick in overtime. For the most part, this little knowledge has aided me in being selective in my choice of friends although I've occasionally not used good judgment and the ending result has been severe disappointment in those whom I have trusted. Doesn't happen often, but it has and that's enough to reinforce this sort of behavior. Good learning experiences, but not without some real trials along the way is how I chalk it up. Hard for me because once I loose that sense of trust, I have a tendency to wipe them clean. It's my sensitivity and my depth of feelings for those relationships and the disappointments in them that have always been a real trial and I have simply learned to basically just severe all ties, mentally and physically. My hearing impairment and my INFJ qualities sort of have a negative spin concerning the extrovert side of me and many people have actually thought that I was a snob! Nothing could be further from the truth. I love to observe people, and while I may have my own opinions and values, I am always interested in hearing others, although I admit to missing a lot in translation. I really just miss so much sometime and add that touch of simply wandering off to enjoy a little solitary bliss, it gets misinterpreted quite often. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy social functions, just not an overload of them. It is certainly true that I enjoy them much more on a more intimate level of small groups of just one on one. I just get an extreme sensory and mental overload and need my downtime. I gather that this is one of the reasons that cycling, gardening, writing, painting and hiking has always, and will always be among my favorite pastimes. I love reading, but get antsy. Cycling especially, with the love of hearing the music and the consciousness of the wheels spinning under my feet, the sense of constant movement, enhances my introspectiveness in such a way that I feel completely free with my thoughts. The big bonus is that I am outdoors where I love it most. Spinning in the garage, the few times I've tried it, even with the headphones bores me to tears and drives me to frustration. Thus are the ramblings of my thoughts on this day.
On my last lap I stop to take a few snaps of something I've never noticed before. An old fence of sorts. Probably have never seen it due to the high vegetation that normally surrounds the area. Now, why is there a partially remaining fence in the middle of the muck bog betwixt the lakes? I'll probably never know the answer, but it is tantalizing to think of someone walking out here and putting up a fence. Cows? The non natives love to cut down any of the native grasses that grow around water here so their little foo foo dogs don't get attacked my the gators just planning an ambush. I always laugh at that thought. As though a gator could actually plan. If they were smart, they'd simply keep their dogs away from the water, but oh no, the human is way more important and therefore nature must conform for their comfort. Ho hum. Finally, my ride is finished. It's a lot warmer than when I first arrived and I've got tons of stuff that still needs to get done at home. It's going to take a few weeks. Now a single mother with a house to maintain. It's all very scary, but I am determined. Sometimes I feel as though as scary as it is, it will all be worth it. I decide to forgo taking the headphones off going back Rummell. I am enjoying the music too much. When I reach the Lakefront once again on Lake Toho, I take a break and snap a picture of the redbud, a rarity in this area. Fortunately, it's in a good location and will survive the sandy soil and intensity of the sun, being planted in an area where it will receive shade from the Live Oaks in the summer.
Home!
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