Fraser Hall on top of Mt Oread, KU Campus--about eight miles out.
I went for a fast morning ride. Thunder storms all night and into the very early morning almost shut down my plan. But the Sun came out and things began to dry quickly, Gentle Reader of This Blog--which meant I needed to get out, ride, and get home before the next thunder storm. Oh yeah--very humid too!
No head wind this morning--might mean the head wind will be on the way home.
So I felt strong and rode at a good clip. Everything is green, and seems that on the way out a bloke like me could even see the stuff grow! Birds were everywhere singing and fighting and getting all the insects, which were like clouds hanging by the swampy roadside...
The fields are green, damp, and the morning quickly drying out the crops in the sunshine.
Muddy and soggy out here in the Wilds!
The Farm at the base of Shank Hill--where the tamed fields meet the Wild Lands!
The Tree of Long Life--has seen many Summers I'm sure mes amis!
First cut of hay and rolled into the large bales.
If you blink, you will miss the village of Lone Star!
I'm just going to ride out quick to Lone Star Lake and back. The village or colony as the first immigrants called their spots on the map, had everything--a church, a school, places to live--and they farmed the muddy fields among the Wilds.
What was new is now old.
After a few years, the people prospered, and here's an example of a family that built themselves a fine house on the farm. The house now over 100 years old and still a stately place.
The Buzzards of the Lake shall know my fate should I never return from a Brevet into the Wild Lands...
Also known as Turkey Vultures, these guys relax on the lake's Dam. It's more like a levy really--built as a WPA Project back in the 1930's. They soar above the lake on these humid windy mornings and are indifferent, as usual, to a cyclist.
Almost missed the photo of the Church for you, mes amis! Built in 1918 by the villagers.
County Road.
Bon jour la bon jour, mes amis! or Hello there my friends!
On the way home and through the farmland of Kansas.
Fast but not too fast.
A hand full of triathletes arrived hot and sweaty at the lake as I was pulling out. They're a competitive bunch and I knew they would re-group and come chasing after me--which they did--but I think I put some distance between us as they faded back into the Wilds.
My route back took me into the Wet Lands, and here Gentle Reader of This Blog, it seems that if just enough rain, one of this days the road will be under the water. I like it here because the air is sweet and birds songs are on the wind!
Wet Lands.
Thanks for riding along and for visiting my blog!
Cheers! Bruce
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