When I can't get out paddling, the trail bike helps to keep the ol' body working. A ride out through the country can yield an occasional sign that perhaps spring has finally beat old man winter into submission, at least for the balance of this week. The spring wheat is coming on. Yesterday I saw cattle in a wheat field, and a new calf lying in the wheat could barely see over the top of the grass. That is part of the Glass Mountains in the background.
I had to follow this meadow lark from tree to tree before it finally agreed to allow me a picture. I can understand it feeling crowded. I was the only other living thing anywhere in sight.
It's really cumbersome trying to type with my fingers taped together. It was the end of March when I took the whitewater paddling class. When I came down off one Class II rapid, I capsized and did something to my left hand. It all happened so fast I don'r know what happened, but the hand was sore. By the next morning it was swollen and stiff, and it took some time to get the hand loosened up enough to grasp a paddle. Ever since, it has been a debate over whether I broke a bone or just really tore up a lot of soft tissue, but it remains sore. I finally got it xrayed yesterday. The doctor says he sees no fracture, but it is still swollen and painful after a month. The fingers are taped together to minimize movement as it hopefully heals faster, come on, faster.
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