Nature Simply Is It was autumn again in the great Adirondack Park. The trees had finally begun changing from their summer hue of green to their vibrant fall hues of red, orange and yellow. I could smell the crispness of the fall air as I stepped outside of my baby blue house in the tiny town of Minerva. The scent in the air was that of looming frost and sweet serenity. This was my favorite time of year; everything was dying but in a beautiful, peaceful, even hopeful way. The manner in which the trees list their leaves -- they simply seemed to know that this lovely foliage of theirs was to be gone, to soon be decaying under the snow -- yet they let go with grace. If only I could be a tree I thought, as I took my jade green bicycle out of the old shed.
I mounted my bike and began to peddle. First slow, taking care to get safely out of my gravel driveway and then fast once I hit the smooth pavement of Morse Memorial Highway. Riding my bicycle I felt energized -- at home and yet f