I had a very long commute home on the bike, the other day, of about 15 miles after a side trip to see the doctor for some follow up work. Nice enough ride, when the weather cooperates, but this was not one of those times. With ten miles to go, the sky opened up and the rain fell in torrents. Not being a total imbecile, I took refuge under an overpass and waited for the storm to pass … and waited … and waited. So, there I was, sitting under an overpass with my bicycle, watching traffic roar by in suburban Chicago, listening to some ZZ Top on my ipod and wondering how the heck a small town girl like me who loved the outdoors ended up in the big city under an overpass in a rainstorm. At times like this, one's mind drifts back to better times. Couldn't help but wonder when I will be back on a prairie marsh with a
spotting scope or prowling the sagebrush flats with my
camera or
binocular. How long will it be before I am on some big western river with a flyrod in my hand? How many more nights without a truly dark sky and the glow of the Milky Way for company? Will I ever get back to country where people wear cowboy hats for more than looks?