I had a really great ride today. The clay and stone banks along the old railroad right-of-way were crisp against a clear sky. With the sunny cold, I felt more invigorated, so rather than strength, I worked more on rhythm, breathing and balance. It was fun and it felt good to be alive, to have warm clothes and to have the opportunity.
I can't say it is one color over the other, or even both -- but the sharp interface between that fascinates me.
The Montour Creek is frozen at the edges where it gradually transitions into a milky sheet and further towards the center of the flowing water, where it is a wet, glass-clear crisp of what I like to think of as water-ice. Not simply water or ice. It may be one of the reasons this song will always be warm in my hand.
When someone dies, there is a transition that I can't begin to explain. At the instant, I don't feel sad. When each of my kids were born, I was momentarily stunned and couldn't speak.
There must be a purpose and healthy notion in the manner and way such things bubble to the surface. Lack of understanding notwithstanding, instants of transition, whether life-changing or trivial, seem to teach you something good. Like Oatmeal.