Sunday roadkill report

Two dead porcupines out on Forest Avenue where it winds through the bog, one fresh and neat, the other much less so.  Also, the bisected remains of what looked like a border collie near the old gravel pit.  Hey, I never promised you a rose garden . . .

Cloudy this morning, damp, with wind, so I demonstrated my coward-streak by biking a figure-eight loop around town rather than the long Sunday route I'd planned.  This way I could be assured of quick refuge, if needed, rather than encountering a thunderstorm with hail when I was twenty miles from home.  So, the sun came out.  Wind continued, though . . .

We're still promised those thunderstorms, just . . . later.

31.01 miles, 2:30:45