I don’t know what’s going on with the weather, but S. called on Saturday afternoon and told me to drag my sickly self out of bed and put myself on the bike to enjoy the mid-60s weather we were having. I pulled on my summer skirt and a sweatshirt and headed out. She was right–it was absolutely beautiful out, and even the sweatshirt was a little warm. We pedaled toward the park, climbed that last hill, and leaned our bikes against a tree. She laid out a blanket and I pulled out my book. She pulled out her banjo and practiced some chords before launching into a crowd pleaser. I watched that little white poodle, overdressed in a red jacket, flop back and forth while a little boy toddled toward it and for a pet, lacking just enough eye/hand coordination to make the whole thing ridiculous. People did their laps around the reservoir below, the geese took their naps, and the sky looked like this. Someday it will be spring and then summer and then fall again, and I will still have this park and my bicycle. It started to get cold enough to remind me that it’s still January, so we packed up and headed back down the hill for more layers. A perfect Saturday afternoon.