I was out biking the other day at a local nature preserve. The place is like a little corner of paradise in the middle of metro mayhem. Well, maybe not metro; we’re far enough north of Orlando to be free of much of the chaotic congestion, but we’re certainly not rural by any stretch. And maybe it’s not paradise, but it is a secluded little bastion of beauty—a segue from suburbia to serenity.
The preserve is a 5 minute bike ride from our house and backs up to Lake Jessup. It consists of acres of old, undeveloped Florida. Streams and swampy marshes run along trails shaded by tall canopies of trees interspersed with ferns and Florida foliage of all kinds. A run, bike or walk through these woods can stir in anyone a primitive predilection. An older, simpler way of life, perhaps that of the Seminole Indian, endears the passing pedestrian as he makes his way deeper into the density of the forest and farther from the tumultuous times of the 21st century.
During my ride, I was inclined to stop on a number of occasions to simply take in my surroundings. But as I sat there staring at the stream, or at a beautiful bed of ferns, or up at the vaulted veil of branches above, I experienced another element of this environment which kept me from leering for any length of time. Mosquitoes. They mercilessly mounted attacks on my arms, legs, and neck every time I stopped for more than 10 seconds. I could not escape their harassment no matter where I rode. So I kept moving; yes, enjoying the ride, but wishing I could stop for a while and mingle with this largely unmolested, indigenous milieu.
Life, like the mosquitoes at the preserve, also has a way of moving us along. Set among family in a world of wonder and adventure, you’d think we could stop for a while and wander the woods. But society is constantly stinging us, and in the midst of our mingling, we’re pushed along to keep riding, keep working, keep concerning ourselves with the pace of our peddling. I don't know about you, but I'm thinking about using some bug spray?
The preserve is a 5 minute bike ride from our house and backs up to Lake Jessup. It consists of acres of old, undeveloped Florida. Streams and swampy marshes run along trails shaded by tall canopies of trees interspersed with ferns and Florida foliage of all kinds. A run, bike or walk through these woods can stir in anyone a primitive predilection. An older, simpler way of life, perhaps that of the Seminole Indian, endears the passing pedestrian as he makes his way deeper into the density of the forest and farther from the tumultuous times of the 21st century.
During my ride, I was inclined to stop on a number of occasions to simply take in my surroundings. But as I sat there staring at the stream, or at a beautiful bed of ferns, or up at the vaulted veil of branches above, I experienced another element of this environment which kept me from leering for any length of time. Mosquitoes. They mercilessly mounted attacks on my arms, legs, and neck every time I stopped for more than 10 seconds. I could not escape their harassment no matter where I rode. So I kept moving; yes, enjoying the ride, but wishing I could stop for a while and mingle with this largely unmolested, indigenous milieu.
Life, like the mosquitoes at the preserve, also has a way of moving us along. Set among family in a world of wonder and adventure, you’d think we could stop for a while and wander the woods. But society is constantly stinging us, and in the midst of our mingling, we’re pushed along to keep riding, keep working, keep concerning ourselves with the pace of our peddling. I don't know about you, but I'm thinking about using some bug spray?
One time when RVing to the northeast, we stopped for the nite in Skippers, VA at an RV park. My son and I went for a bike ride in the woods, and were suddenly attacked by a horde of horseflies!!! We quickly rode out of the woods before we could be bit. It was quite a close call!
ReplyDeletefor some reason this post makes me think of ruby tuesdays. ;)
ReplyDeletedammit, jim, ruby tuesdays was different
ReplyDeletei know, i kid.
ReplyDeletegood post.
i didn't know horseflies horded? sounds horrific, horrible, and whorish (I don't know it would sound whorish, but it went with my alliteration)
ReplyDelete