Trail Rain

A small window in what was an otherwise rainy, stormy day opened up at exactly the same time I started pedaling.  The trails were pristine. Damp but not wet. No mud, no dust. Tacky. In a good way. The raindrops were still clinging to the oak leaves and the tall, green grass. The Penstemon were exploding in vibrant purple and pink, a stark and welcome contrast to the miles of vaporous green. The clouds streaked across the gray sky creating an oneiric, other worldly panoramic, reminiscent of some watery painting from Manet.

We moved through quickly and quietly. Slipping over ridges and through drainages and down canyons until once again we were back among the paved hustle and bustle of everyday life. But the escape was easy. The solitude and the beauty of the trail is a ten minute spin from the driveway. Once in a while I forget how spectacular living along the Wasatch Front can be. But it never takes long to be reminded, corrected.

And I am left wondering, why live anywhere else?

Aaron on Kenny’s Trail