On May 10th, I got up very early and watched the sun come up as I did some data analysis for a tight deadline. I then got ready to ride to work around 9. I watched a storm front hop the mountains and roll over town as I had one last espresso. It was probably about 40 degrees and overcast as I rolled the mountainbike down the block. I took the long way in. Over the neighborhood, on the trails.
At the highpoint of the ride, I paused to watch a small coopers hawk in an aerial battle with a much larger raven. Then it started spitting snow.
I rolled on toward the Quemazon trail, watching a coyote scurry away ahead of me. Did a small loop through the woods on the edge of the canyon.
Crossed the bridge, hit the trails on the opposite side of the canyon and looped around the tiny connector trails before dropping into the canyon for the final leg to work. I was warming up, but the day remained grey and cold.
Startled one more coyote, followed fresh elk track through pine needles, paused again as I was enveloped in a flurry, and then popped up on the road and headed to the office to continue my working day.