It has been so stormy lately, and my legs have been feeling it. It’s completely flat here, so that means I’m used to spinning easily in a high gear (or a low gear–I wonder how long I’ll be riding a bike before I figure out which is which…and whether I’m nearsighted or farsighted). It also means I’m sore after a few days of pedaling into strong headwinds. But tonight it was just perfect out there. Perfect. My ride down to the Marigny was such a pleasure, and my ride back was even nicer. I went slowly, savoring the quiet and empty night. I took the time to really see the houses on Baronne, a street I ride all the time but hardly ever see. I stopped to take a picture of this blighted house next to one that looks rebuilt, but not recently. The wrought iron fence is backed by  chicken wire; the fence seems almost ashamed. I couldn’t capture a good picture, one that would show how the place is simultaneously inviting you in and pushing you out, but I enjoyed what I could see, and was amazed again at how much that little apparatus conditions my sight, even if it doesn’t even seem to work. I got back on my bike and continued my ride home, grateful that we still get some nights like this.