All credit to Bill for the title for this blog. I was thinking about it being the summer solstice and, as I rode, noting the beauty and lushness of a summer with plenty of rainfall. I’ve never seen the magnolias with new buds this far past spring, the roses and day lilies joined by the brown-eyed susans, hostas, and gardenias blooming in the deep summer greens. The temperatures were summery, in the upper 80s, but that was a relief from the mid-90s we saw in the middle part of the week.
On take off I struggled with my newfound strategy (using the rear brake as my hill stop). But I’m not surprised; new skills take practice and this was only my second practice. I was able to catch up to Bill and practice my other skills like no-look turns, target fixation swerve, and on-street U-turns. Other than my right hand going numb halfway through the ride, I enjoyed the ride, especially the muted beauty of the day.
The sun was out but throughout our ride, threatening clouds covered it providing shaded light to the flowers and greens. The animals were pretty quiet; I didn’t spot more than one cabbage white butterfly during the ride. We roared into a cul-de-sac and startled the great blue heron into spectacular flight out of the muddy low tide. As we rode up to the historic house with the gravel lot, I made a mental note to request more gravel lot practice once the summer ends and cooler weather arrives. To my surprise Bill led us into the gravel lot where I got an up-close view of the brown-eyed susans in the center flower bed. As we arrived in the lot, I spotted a black pipevine swallowtail butterfly heading toward the flowers. There was lumber stacked up in the parking lot blocking my two-spot U-turn, so we rode a few loops around the lot.
As we rode toward the exit, Bill did a sudden stop. The pipevine had decided to land on the gravel right near the Rocket’s front tire. Had Bill not stopped, there might have been a smushed smear of a butterfly left among the seashells. However, it was the pipevine’s lucky day; we stopped and watched as the butterfly smoothed out her wings and sat there for several seconds before finally lifting off out of danger of the tires. She followed us a bit up the road until becoming lost among the shadows of the trees.
When we arrived in the garage, Bill asked me, “Did you see that kamikaze butterfly?” I responded that I had and was happy to know the kamikaze mission failed and she flew off perhaps to join us on a future ride.
Flutterby Biker 