An extraordinary day. A light breeze gently stroking my skin, the temperature around 80, the sky filled with clouds that appeared to have been painted with strokes of white from a feathered brush. They were opaque, allowing the blue of the sky to peak through and the sun to continue to warm my skin and cast shadows on the ground. It was the perfect day to mount the iron horse and cast all the day's cares into the wind.
Being behind my husband of 28 years afforded me the opportunity to take in all that passed me as the wind whiped through my hair. We traveled south of the city, leaving behind the traffic and the noise to enjoy the gently rolling hills that is the south-eastern part of our state. He was looking for that perfect country road that would provide us with the perfect ride.
Possum Hollow Road...a charming name, so we turned to discover what magic this road may have held. We were immediately advised to watch out for cows as they might be crossing the road at anytime. It seemed this road could be interesting.
As we continued our journey, I was mesmerized by the bright orange lily's growing with abandon on both sides of the road. They mixed among the delicate Queen Anne's Lace and brilliant blue of the Cornflower creating a mix of color reminiscent of an artist's palate. And the green, everything was lusciously green.
The road took us through curves that banked to the left and right so sharply, at times I became intimidated by the angle at which I found myself leaning. But I trusted the man I found myself behind. He is a master rider and one with the machine beneath us. I knew I was safe.
We traveled through areas that were so dense with tree cover that we didn't see the sun. There were no shadows that fell from the tall trees above us. We climbed heights that caused us to lean backwards in our seat. But that too changed when suddenly we reached what appeared to be the summit. The sun was bright and clear and there before us was field after field of green. The farmer's had been busy and it seems as if their hard work was paying off.
The homes along the way were as erratic as the road. There were the palatial estates with their winding driveways and golfcourse lawns. And then there were the mobile homes hovering on the edge of a hill, looking as though a strong wind might blow them over the side. So many contridictions.
I wondered who lived in those homes and what they must have thought everytime they wrote their return address on an envelope or said "I live on Possum Hollow Road". It made me want to giggle.
Possum Hollow Road, as all roads, came to an end and so did our adventure. We started our descent back to where we came. Back to life in the city. Back to the reality of noise and traffic. Back to the cares of home.
But the best part of going home...I got to see more of what I had just seen. And even more than that...cause who knew...I missed alot the first time through.
It was an extraordinary day.
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