After a couple days with too much work and too much wind for a bike ride, S. finally got me back on the bike as we rode up to Druid Hill Park where she ran and I rode in circles. The sky was blue and white clouds and gray drips, because half the city was raining, but it stayed dry as I pedaled around and around, keeping my mouth closed so I didn’t eat the pink petals blowing around like snow. I stopped to take this picture of the scene opposite the pink popcorn trees from last week. The building is just a shell, and now the right side has fallen in. Next door is a copycat, but one still occupied, a visual reminder that it doesn’t have to be this way. So many folks pass this scene every day, circling the park or heading to the suburbs. Every day, this is what we all see. I finished up my laps, said goodbye, and headed up the hill to Hampden for coffee and eavesdropping (I really hope her parents aren’t as upset as she thinks they’re going to be that she’s dating a guy who doesn’t make much money!) and grading, and then I zoomed down the hill to home. Yeah, it was good to be back on the bike.