Sunday roadkill report

Woodchuck, painted turtle, beaver, a patch of black and white fur that might have been a skunk at some time in the past.  However, no stink, so it could have been someone's beloved kitty.  That's the first beaver logged in several years -- damned if I know where it was headed.  No particularly juicy aspens across the road there.

Not-roadkill, a full-grown deer in the edge of the woods.  Wouldn't have noticed it if it hadn't snorted and then spooked away, white flag high.

Clear morning, little wind, so I headed across the river and back into the hills, a strenuous ride I had planned for the last couple of weekends before weather intervened.  This finally gets me into my full summer Sunday routes.  New variety of vetch blooming, pinkish rather than the strong purple.  Also rabbit-foot clover, mullein, day-lilies, and the first of the vexed purple loosestrife of the season.  A pox upon it.  Or maybe a plague of locusts.

Temperature in the 60s F when I headed out, over 80 by the time I got back.  July comes, even to Maine.

42.0 miles, 3:17:58

Peace is where you find it

SF author and poet Thomas M. Disch
1940 - 2008
Report gives cause of death as suicide.

If you've got it, flaunt it!

Little amusing oddity noticed on today's bike ride -- a flock of those big-ass motor homes (tour bus size) pulled in at an Irving Quick-Stop along the road.  And each one had a shiny big-ass SUV on the tow bar at the back, Hummer or equivalent.  Gas and diesel prices do not seem to be an issue.

Like the guy said about yachts, "If you have to ask, you can't afford it."