|[Canopy of lilacs.]|
But there's an extra dimension to bicycling that is the cherry on the springtime Sunday, something that makes me feel actually sorry for all the people stuck speeding their cars around town. For the last two weeks, riding a bicycle around the Twin Cities has felt like having your face stuffed into a pillow of flowers.
The apple trees, the pink trees, the white trees, the other red trees, the lilacs, purple and white, stuff I don't even about or notice. Everywhere you go, gliding along city streets, flourishing flowers send amazing scents up your nose. Especially after months of being cooped up inside, it's a magnificent everyday drug.
|[This is me right now.]|
You don't even have to stop and smell the flowers. They will surround you with their magic. Biking around the city, I feel like the 1960s cartoon of rascal cat led by the scent of the pie cooling on the windowsill. The flowers beckon me around the corner, lure me with sweet aroma, conjure my energy, suffocate my senses with a blanket of fresh life.
What ephemeral glory! Olfactory inertia. Get out there.
|[Purple and red ones.]|