Every day in June: Day 3: Carolina Thread Trail

It was a hot one today. In the 90's. Sunny and humid ... Bring it on!

I love summer, love the heat, love sweat dripping down my face, hair and bandana soaked when I take off my bike helmet, and the long drink of cold water afterward. I know most of you don't share this sentiment, but there it is. I come from a long line of southerners, so I suppose it's in my genes.

Today I had to squeeze in a ride between a delivery to Daniel Stowe Botanical Garden and a drive to SC to visit Mama and Daddy. Cramerton was the perfect place to do it. Strava tells me I rode 9 miles. It was mostly a meander.

This little town along the South Fork of the Catawba River feels a little bit like a town that time forgot. It is bisected by the railroad. There are houses with deep front porches and back lawns that slope down to the river; small, former mill village houses along a grid of narrow sidewalk-lined streets in the upper part of the town; a gazebo with rocking chairs right in the center. This was a textile town in the glory days of textiles in the south and though the textile glory days are past (but coming back in some measure, I hope), the town retains the feel of care and community, of place. I told my dad this evening that along my ride I saw at least five people sitting on their porches. Not looking at phones. Not reading. Not talking to anyone. Just sitting. There were young boys riding bikes through the center of town and teenagers fishing off the dock. These are not things you see everyday.

Goat Island Park and the Carolina Thread Trail make Cramerton special. Not many towns have their very own pedestrian bridge across a river to their very own island with a great playground, disc golf course, kayak launch, and fishing dock. Pretty sweet. The Thread Trail weaves together history, geography, culture and the natural beauty of this Piedmont region of North Carolina. It is good to get to know it better by bicycle!

This old blog ...

... is kind of tired and in sore need of rejuvenation ... or retirement. Perhaps it's time to bid adieu to this whole blogging thing. It was fun while it lasted. I met some amazing people via the blog and established some sweet friendships, but they say nobody reads these things anymore. Is that true? I still read blogs.

There is so much going on around here these days but it's very different from the days when five, then four, then three, then two, then one boy(s) lived here. There was a lot to talk about back then. A lot to keep my family up on, and the bloggity blog was a good way to do it.  But my girl, who went off to college long before this blog got its start, and my five boys who were most often the subjects of this blog, have all flown the coop. They're adults now so talking about them is crossing a line I don't want to cross. Their stories are theirs to tell, except of course, when they come home. Even then, I am less inclined to write about our time together because well, I just want to live the moments with them and with my grandchildren. Those moments are fewer and farther between than I would like because we are so far flung, so the times when we are together are very sweet for me.

Still, it's hard to retire this space.

What about a post a week? A bit of catching up. Just about what's going on around here. Bike rides and refugee friends, and teaching and sewing and the (neglected) garden, and grandchildren.

I expect that only a very few people bother to read this blog any more so if you're one of the faithful few, thanks. I'll give it a go for a few weeks and see what happens. I know some of you were waiting for an April Fool's post and I left you in the lurch. Sorry for that. Those April Fools posts are inspirational lightning strikes. An idea pops into my head and the writing just flows. It didn't happen this year but hey, the month's not over yet. Be on your guard. I may yet fool you.

Anyway, if you are still hanging around and would do me the kindness of checking in with a comment, I'd appreciate it. I'm just curious to know who's still here.

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Since I last wrote ...

Coty turned 60. Yikes! Sounds so old and I don't think either of us feel that old. On his birthday, he rode 60 miles on his bike with Thomas and some cycling buddies. He's a strong, fit, 60 years young. Still finding it a little hard to believe that we have reached this age. Well, I haven't yet, but it won't be long ...

We took a little trip down east - Coty's birthday present from me. Three nights at a lovely little cottage in New Bern and four days of cycling. I chose a place that was flat, since I am not in nearly the cycling shape that Coty is. We rode 102 miles in four days and I loved it. Rural, flat, eastern North Carolina. Wisteria and Carolina Jessamine blooming along the roadsides, draping the trees. Pine forests. Tidal creeks. Acres and acres and acres of farmland. Very few cars. We rode through Oriental, the sailing capital of North Carolina. We rode across the Trent River and took a ferry across the Neuse River. When we weren't riding, we were reading, relaxing, walking around New Bern, eating good food, thoroughly enjoying being together ... and away.

I have this idea that we will cycle all around North Carolina in the next couple of years. The deck attendant on the ferry told us how we could take the ferry to Ocracoke for free if we just have bikes, and cycle the island. Sounds fun to me. It's on the list. Next cycling destination, though, will likely be a little closer - the area around Pinehurst/Southern Pines. We've heard there are pretty rides there. Not as flat as down east, but not as hilly as around here.

We rode 30 miles on Saturday with the Ride for Refugees, a fundraiser for Project 658, where we are now holding our Make Welcome sewing classes. We hemmed and hawed a bit on Thursday and Friday when we saw the weather forecast - cold and windy - but I kept thinking that I wanted to it anyway. It would be good to do a hard thing. Turned out warmer than anticipated on Saturday morning, but 2/3rds of the way into the ride, the wind was gusting up to 35 miles an hour. A couple of times, riding uphill, into the wind, I felt like I was standing still. Put your head down and pedal on. It is good to do something like that. To challenge yourself, to feel taxed and tired. It is minuscule ... nothing, in comparison to the hard things that our refugee friends have endured. I kept thinking about that as we pedaled. How relatively easy my life is, how incredibly blessed and rich and full ... I am humbled ... and grateful.



It is late now. Time to go to bed. Thanks for reading. More soon. I promise.