Fall colors in the Bootheel are brown and browner out in the countryside. The cotton is pretty much picked, so the fields of snowy-white have become fields of brown stubble now. Still, Thursday was a wonderful Indian Summer day. The sky was a fine blue with only a few cirrus clouds and contrails for contrast. Temperature was in the low 70’s, and there was very little wind. I normally close my office at noon on Thursdays and spend the afternoon running errands or doing paperwork, but not this time. This gorgeous day reminded me how soon winter would cast its pall.
My riding buddy and I made a 108 mile circle over through New Madrid for a short bout of river watching. Any place in shade still had water standing, and the smell of cold mud was oddly nostalgic for me. I finally realized that it was much the same smell as when I used to ride my horse down the turn-rows and ditchbanks when I was a kid.
We explored a couple of dead-ends to see where they wound up, and now we know. No really close calls on the ride, though my friend got an extremely close look at a low-flying blue heron. I got a great look at it and I was riding about fifty feet behind him. It appeared to me that the bird was really above head-height and wouldn’t have collided with us. There is some disagreement on this point, though. We also were surprised by a couple of dingo-like stray dogs whose coloration blended into the ditch-bank extremely well. Fortunately, they were content to watch us whizz by.
It was an extraordinarily fine day and an extraordinarily fine ride. Keep the shiny side up, folks.