Today’s ride took me whizzing down the hill, around the circle, and over to Fort McHenry, a brief stop for a sandwich and some froyo, courtesy of a gift card from A. It was surprisingly warm and sunny today, which meant only two layers, no gloves or hat, and an unzipped jacket–it’s practically summer again! But it’s not, so the streets were almost empty, and I only had to dodge the trucks putting up Christmas lights rather than gaggles of clueless pedestrians as I did my ride around the harbor. It felt a little like I was the only one out there today, and I liked it. The ride around Fort McHenry had that lonely feeling, too–no picnickers and few history buffs, the cannons surrounded by dead grasses waving in the slight breeze. The harbor, though, was busy with cranes in the sky helping civilian and military ships get their load on. Something was pumping into the sky from the cement plant and trucks were streaming in and out of gates marked NO TRESPASSING. There’s a world hidden in plain sight out here, the coming and going of our stuff and the stuff that helps our stuff get here and there. I stopped on my ride back the other way to snap this picture of the giant pile of white stuff–at least three times as big as last time I was out this way–covered with a giant black plastic sheet held down by black plastic bags filled with the white stuff it’s covering up. Maybe it’s salt for the roads? I dunno, but it’s under heavy guard, sort of, and rather than try to get in there to taste it and find out if my hunch is right, I pedaled an easy ride home, using my outside voice to helpfully remind the sorority girls in the white SUV that a stop sign means you have to make a full stop, not roll through and almost hit the friendly cyclist using a labeled bike route to get herself home.