One of my favorite things about living in small town Bavaria (among many favorite things)) is riding my bike. To the store, to a friend's house or just to ride, the places I go are typically accessible by two wheels instead of four.
Even after eight months, I still thrill to the streets of my hometown. If I go one way, I see a castle; if I travel the other direction, I trail through neighborhoods. The architecture is strikingly different from home, and my favorite feature is the flowing flower baskets at each window.
Yesterday I was headed to the store by car–we're already flirting with Winter temps over here–when my son and husband shamed me into a bike ride. Actually, they couldn't believe I reached for keys when they were reaching for jackets and gloves–THAT was the shame! So, I protested and grumbled, slipped on my coat, slathered on chapstick…and slithered out the door, completely out of sorts.
I peddled quickly past them to warm up (I'm convinced my skin is thinner than theirs and that's why I'm always cold), soon losing site of them behind me (they must have stopped to do something; I'm usually that much slower than them.).
And THEN I received a spectacular reminder of why I love living here, reward for riding my bike, reason to kiss my husband and son, testimony of God's majesty and creative brilliance. A perfect dahlia waving me over for a quick visit–