Fall, Gravel, and Surrendering to Joy

It’s fall, and here in Portland, the season has turned trees to colored candy, and roads to carpets of orange and gold.

And the weather is changing, too. Yesterday, it was 38 degrees when I hopped on my bike.

There are few things that bring me as much joy as riding my bike here in the fall.

Yesterday, as I was biking up Leif Erickson, a double-wide fire road that snakes its way through Forest Park, the road was painted with a thick blanket of dry big-leaf maple leaves in every color and – yes – countless samaras (for those who look more closely).

The feel of the back wheel crackling over those leaves, drifting around gravel turns, tire letting go of its hold of the trail, of gravity, of the earth, for a split second before it engages again...

...this is one of my favorite feelings in all the world. A moment where fear, excitement, freedom, surrender, a surge of adrenaline, all add up to a single second of breathless, heart-skipping joy.

When so much else in this world, in this country, is upside down, those little joys – made and given – are a balm and a delight and essential.

As I introduce you to Maple, where will you find or create one such tiny joy today?

PS -- Maple's full name is "Mabelle Mae Pours Syrup on Sunbeams and Calls It Breakfast; What Some Call Magic, I Call Messy.”