The boys and I went for a bike ride this evening and crossed over one of my favourite neighbourhood parks. We call it Batman park. There is a path worn into the grass from more bikes than just ours peddling across it night after night. Day after day, tires digging up raw dirt.
It is a bumpy, windy path, just bumpy and windy enough to add a bit of zing to the ride, like an old fashioned jaw breaker or a lemon sour or a cream soda float. Sweet and sour, but mostly sweet.
If I ride slow enough, the dips and turns take on another element of trickiness, like that wobbly first ride on your bicycle when you took your training wheels off but were too afraid to go the speed needed to balance properly.
The air is still crisp, spring is still new, but my neighbours are out like August mosquitoes, biting at bits of the outdoors.
The grass is getting longer, birds are chirping louder and the playground is filling up with hoots and hollers.
Spring is wobbling along, cutting her new path, dips here, turns there, bumps and windy bits all over.
I've never been a big fan of spring, always wanting to rush right into summer. But this year I just wanted to go slow and enjoy the ride.