Words by Greg
Photos by Trina and Greg
It's been a hot, dry summer this November.
Which is all relative, I suppose. Since the pre-Halloween freeze, it's been sunny and bright most every day. And warm enough for shorts and shirt-sleeve rides. Nights have been crisp but above freezing, though most everything in the garden is dead now anyway. Warm enough to keep a nice colony of green algae in Little Chief Greenbeard's fishing tub.
The hint of Autumn that we first caught wind of way up in the high country and waaaay back in the middle of September has finally worked its way down to the riverbanks near town. Golden trees are punctuating the flat beige plain of the valley floor, and piles of leaves are filling yards and sidewalks.
It may be the best time of the year for riding the sweet local mountain bike trails. And we've done our best to be out there with the dogs. Though often without each other of late, as schedules have prevented it. On days when the nearby singletrack seems too far, Sprocket, at least, doesn't mind zooming along the paved river paths.
But now, as I write this, wind is blowing through the nighttime darkness and there is a moist chill in the air. Clouds are hurrying overhead and rain occasionally patters on the dark rectangle of the skylight.
Astronomically, winter doesn't start for another month-and-a-half. But this rain could turn to snow, and the more tactile signs of winter could slide in and turn the season. Or, it could just be a cold bump before the return of our November Summer.
I had the opportunity to shoot some moto photos, featuring some of the beauty of the local landscape.