The Magic Bike – Part II

Magic Bike FeatherWith such a winter of snow, ice, wind, and rain, I enthusiastically agreed to bicycle to Hubbards on Saturday during a break in the weather (10 degrees!) to do a few ‘errands': getting the Globe and Mail for Philip and fresh Julien’s bread for me, to name a few!

As I rode my Magic Bike with a gigantic southwest tailwind, which is completely opposite the usual winter north wind, I was scanning for something beautiful to photograph for the Bluenose Coast blog. The formerly pristine snow was dark with road dirt, and despite the warm temperature, the skies were grey. All looked dull and colourless. Even so, the fresh air felt fantastic, and the ride was lovely.

It is so pleasant to visit shops in Hubbards on Saturday, with many out and about at the “mall”: I was only missing the Hubbards market a tiny bit.

On the way home, I decided to photograph an overflowing brook in Fox Point, with bouncing water gurgling over snowy rocks. Just as I was taking the picture, I was startled to feel someone standing beside me. I gasped, looked to the right, and no one was there!

Feeling a bit shaken (it had been such a vivid presence!), I thought it must be my friend and mentor, Charlie Labrador, the only spirit from “the other side” that seems to keep an eye on me. I can tell if he’s been around because he leaves me a feather. Well, there was no feather, so on I rode into the gathering wind and rain drops.

Almost home in The Lodge, I suddenly noticed a ‘feather’ on the side of the road – some water in the ditch formed the particular shape, with grasses and light foam providing the anatomical structure. Charlie has never failed to send me a feather when I’m feeling awed by the beauty of nature and grateful for the blessings that living here bring.

As an added bonus, as the rain began in earnest, a group of three “spandexed” racing cyclists came flying towards me on the other side of the road, celebrating their massive tailwind with waves, greetings, and cheers for my bravery as I rode head down into the February winter, my Saturday treasures bulging in my panniers and a song in my heart.

Catherine Guest


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