fleets of grass.

I sat by the river today for the first time in a while. The bridge reflected against the water, painting itself with light. The river shone on the trees, massaging them with repetitive, meaningful strokes of curves and lines. The water now is thickish with algae. The tree trunks have gone back to brown from their frozen-looking greyness. There is green moss hugging the edges of the river, and a red vine grows somewhere near the footpath. I heard birds sing by my spot for the first time since visiting the bridge, and along the footpath a robin hopped down to pick at dirt. There were dogs, people, friends. A tug-boat herded a barge, a train whistled far away, and the traffic from the bridge was drowned out by the new sounds of motion.



It is springtime in Pittsburgh, PA.



I've been going on bikerides and lifting myself from bed earlier each morning, even without the demand of early-morning workshifts. I still feel sluggish and out of shape, but spring has entered my heart and my head. As I'd said upon my arrival in Pittsburgh, "all new horizons!" And I still feel that way. There is newness every day, new people and tastes and sounds. Even new disappointments and hesitations that keep a hop in my step and a smile on my face dispite everything.



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I wrote that the other day, but have been so full (i don't think busy is the right word, but my life has definately been filled with things) lately that I haven't had a chance to even finish a blog. This morning Evan met me outside my house at 8:30 and we rode bikes into Oakland and rode a loop around the park. It was a packed dirt path that handled surprisingly well on fixed-gears with road tires. I think it helps that the Olmo is set up like a cruiser, even though it looks a bit awkward. It's a good position to be in to not be stressing my neck when I am not sure about where to go.



It's 69 degrees outside today. I shouldn't even be pausing my day to finish this blog, since I have to be at work at 2:30 and therefore need to get in as much day activity as possible. But I know I will never finish if I don't just take the time now. I have been thinking as I've been wandering around in this incredible shorts weather about how absurd it is that people are driving their cars instead of walking or riding bikes or even mopeds around. But interestingly, I'm sure I had similar thoughts in the winter months before I started driving, when I would look at all my athletically-inclined friends who opted to drive their cars when they were perfectly capable of managing in relatively cold climates such as a beautifully bright New Mexican winter day. So it is all up for reasoning, I suppose, what the best ways are to spend ones time in transit.



But man. Getting out of the house early and breaking a sweat, riding amongst trees and steams, watching dogs chase squirrels, powering over bridges and sharing a bowl of Apple Jacks at a window table with a friend, riding through a tunnel drinking an iced Americano, birds flying overhead back up North for springtime -- I can't think of a better morning.



Even if I did get lost on the way home, ending up on a road with fast cars and no shoulder, then on a sidewalk that turns to a debris-laden dirt footpath, taking myself miles longer to get home*, that still is the adventure of this Newness, the ability to get lost near my house, the gentility of the weather that I don't lose my hands trying to find Home. It's going to be a good year.





(*When I was in high school, my best friends and I would sometimes get Dunkin Donuts coffee and drive around town, trying to get lost. Somehow we always managed to end up right back where we needed to, and that odd feeling of defeat was one of the prompts to get me as far from my home as possible, shooting me from Massachusetts to New Mexico as soon as I was out of high school. Still in me is the desire to come across new landscape, and find new ways within familiar landscapes. There is a need to be overcome by place, overwhelmed by my surroundings. Pittsburgh, luckily, does not yet feel as small as it actually is).