The yellow bicycle, standing out glowing amongst the drabness of the grey and blue Raleighs; a daffodil brightening up the winter mud, showing the way to a spring and summer that we know will come sometime, that we know will blossom in ways unknown, that we hope will bring a bright yellow sun day after day after glistening soft rain. Where has it been, where will it go? Does it spend life shackled to this place through lack of adventurous spirit, or has it ridden the rugged mountain paths, the smooth village roads? Has it seen the ocean, the mountain tops, the clouds from above; has it heard the tickle of the crickets on a warm Greek evening as well as the croak of the frogs in this corner of 24?
The sun, the rain , the frost, the snow – all bringing their own unique and ever-changing experience for the yellow bicycle and her rider. I see them now, yellow bicycle and sun-reddened tourist, trying for harmony, unused muscles eventually complaining before being soothed by the wine, cheese, pate, bread… so thoughtfully prepared for lunch.
Then, on we go, a new adventure this afternoon. Perhaps not the Alps, but an adventure nonetheless. Yellow bicycle and rider experiencing it in their own unique ways.