HARVEST ON THE RIDGE – ALREADY SO SOON?

Eerie storm sky at homestead Tuesday evening, 8-10-10

I thought I heard the distant sound of a semi this morning. My sleepy consciousness barely acknowledged it and soon forgot it altogether.

Yesterday's mountain bike ride didn't go well for me. I just didn't feel much like going and my odometer barely registered five miles as I came back into the yard. I resolved to do better today.

With my trusty companion Nellie running alongside, I began my arduous up-and-down trek across Russell Ridge. Heading down Miller Road, I decided to go all the way to the end today – to the old Shawley place. Whizzing along past the Miller's, we scared up a whitetail doe that ran parallel to me. I saw her glance across the road and was wary of her, afraid that she would suddenly decide to cross in front of me. I was relieved when she headed off in the other direction but continued to be mindful of her anyway. Sure enough! As I zoomed down Miller's mountain, pedaling for maximum speed, there was that doe running across in front of me. I was grateful for the mental preparation but I did brake and lose the momentum that would have carried me up the next hill. I made it – I just had to work harder.

I was tired as I continued on – another two miles to the end of the road. It was slow-going. As I approached my destination, I noticed a 4-wheeler parked at the roadside, and a stocky little man stepped onto the road from a field, carrying lots of bright yellow pipe and yellow plastic sheeting. "Oh! I didn't expect to see anyone here!" he commented in surprise. Likewise.

Just up the next hill I arrived at the end of the road. The gate was open and I could see a combine and several trucks. I have a rule for my riding – when harvest starts, I'm careful about where I ride – and I was not pleased to find that I had no option but to share this narrow country road with harvest traffic. After a quick swig of my water, I called Nellie and we headed back the way we came.

Storm sky to south over Little Canyon Tuesday evening

Now – I really wanted to go fast. I hate the feeling that something can come down on me from behind. In fact, I'm a little paranoid about being followed. The noise of my tires and the wind in my ears keeps me from hearing acutely and I can imagine I hear trucks everywhere. But we kept moving – Nellie and I – often slowly as I climbed the hills. And Nellie runs on the opposite side of the road from where I ride, which also makes me nervous now. But being alert counts for something. We met a pick-up, and the driver waved cheerily as he left me in a cloud of dust. On past the Miller's, where this time I had to get off and push my bike.

Something funny happened there, though. A couple of quail were ambling down the road, engrossed in a tete-a-tete. "Watch this," said Nellie. She ran up alongside the quail and they ignored her, continuing their conversation. "What!" exclaimed Nellie, doing a double-take. "You can't ignore me. I am frightening you." Just then the quail did a double-take on Nellie's presence and took wing. She took chase, but it was all harmless pre-season practice for everyone.

Back on my bike and pedaling – oh so excruciatingly slowly – here came a semi heading toward us. At least he slowed down. I got off my bike and called for Nellie, pointing for her to put herself between me and the bank. One thing about Nellie – she doesn't pay much attention to me until she hears that note of panic. Then she quickly does as I tell her. The driver gave me a friendly wave as I turned my back to the dust he left in his wake.

Rustic raised beds

As Miller Road became Curfman Road, I sense a vehicle behind me, but as I expected, it turned to head out to the highway. Nellie and I continued to Dobson Road. Never was I so glad to see it – the home stretch. Nellie's demeanor seemed to say she was relieved, too. Now we knew for sure we would not meet any more vehicles – not today.

Farmer Kyle came in today, bringing us a big old tire to use for a raised bed. He said it will be several weeks before the barley on our place is ready to harvest.