Thursday was a perfect biking day in Baltimore. I headed out mid-morning, taking a new route south and east to Highlandtown to meet A. for lunch. Not only did he pay, but he wanted me to go on and on about what I love about bikes. That was absolutely no problem, and by the time we were done, all I wanted to do was ride my bike all over town. And that’s just what I did, heading west as far as I could go before hitting the Westside Mall and then zigzagging the neighborhoods until I was tho hot and out of water, time to head back to a coffee shop for iced tea and cooler air before heading to Federal Hill. I snapped pictures along the way, of a WWII monument that felt out of place, railroad tracks that have seen better days, this house, skin off, guts hanging out. I said dozens of hellos, shook more than one angry fist at a driver passing too close for my comfort, and thanked myself for my foresight to bring a dish towel along for the ride to mop up the sweat. Sweet, sweet summertime in Baltimore, I thought, many adventures to come. And as I looked through my pictures later I reminded myself how much framing went into them, and how little I know about what I see. That’s not a frustration, it’s a gift.