Passage #480: 21 November 2018
There is something quite satisfying about reaching the top of a hill -- a sense of accomplishment perhaps, or a chance to catch one's breath -- but there is also a distinct sensation one gets upon reaching a saddle, having not quite climbed the whole hill, but rather just enough to pass over, which is pleasant in its own way. It's smart, economical, leaves more room for exploration later, that sort of thing.
So... saddles, yes, let's get on our saddles and ride over some saddles this evening, lest we find ourselves saddled with regret in the morning*.
* Despite our best intentions to come up with some seasonally-appropriate theme this week, there's nothing on this evening's ride related to our impending food-eating/stuff-buying holiday, unless you maybe want to consider both the cowboys (famous saddle users that they are/were) and the pilgrims (ostensible progenitors of said holiday) as icons of American settler colonialist mythology? While that wouldn't be a huge stretch, honestly, it would be an odd thing to shoehorn into a theme, when the ride itself is a rather frivolous excuse to traverse some hills. Sorry 'bout that.