The return of water...

Imagine the first sun streaked, snow melting, icicle dripping, warm without jackets, spring-like day, following a solid week of gloomy, cloudy, snowy, sleety, frigid weather.

In Corvallis, that day was today.

Today was the first day since the valley snow fall, four days ago, in which it was warm enough to turn the irrigation water back on. I happily spent half of my morning and a bit of the afternoon, quenching the very thirsty plants in all of the five greenhouses.
The water was again, flowing.

It was a perfect day for being outside. A perfect day for soaking up the sun in the few short hours it was to be available. A perfect day for riding a bike into town. That is, up until three minutes before I was ready to get on my bike and ride it into town.

* * *

So, in the last four months of traveling up and down the west coast on my bike, today is the *very first* time I've actually ridden in the rain. And the decision to ride was made at the last second, with full awareness of the consequences of the oncoming storm.

* * *

The dark, voluminous clouds rolled in, heavy and fast, and for a few mournful moments, deterred me from taking that perfect ride into town. Perhaps despite my better judgment, I finally decided, "fuck it, I'm gonna ride anyway". I tossed on my rain gear (worn for the first time, on my bike, on this trip) and headed towards town.

As the misty drizzle, which quickly turned into a moderate shower shortly after turning townwards from the driveway, beaded up and attempted to penetrate my outer shell, I slowly began to realize that this would be the most vividly tactile ride I'd ever experienced. I could detect every infinitesimal movement in my bike. I was able to perceive every individual muscle working in my body. Water droplets formed and dripped rapidly off my nose and chin. Cold, icy rain pelted my cheeks like hundreds of miniature icicles shot from a bow. I could hear the rhythmic rush of my breath, softly swirling in my ears. The plummeting air temperature, carried by the swift moving wind, rolled over my exposed fingertips, whispering numbness. The quality of the air; brisk, wet, fresh, saturated my lungs with an effervescent green. Cool. Clean. I glided along, testing the limits of near frictionless speed with fog filled, dropplet drenched glasses.

It was wonderful. It was a consciously chosen challenge.

A mere twenty minutes later, I was leaving my in town destination, and readied for the ride back. By this point, the storm was completely cleared. The only evidence it had been there at all was a distant gray cloud and a wet sidewalk. The storm had also left behind a solid fifteen degree drop. Frozen fingers, visible breath and a sunny, clear reprieve accompanied me home.

Feeling *so* fortunate to have had that moment to have been able to feel *so* much.