Hole in the Rock

There seem to be more beleivable skulls in these rocks.

Interlude

Lovely Bicycle is in the midst of transatlantic displacement.
Thank you for visiting!

Wild Locast Tree

It was very dry in the mountains so I was surprised to see so many wild flowers blooming. The wild locast trees were beautiful with pale pink to a light purple in color blossoms. There were wild roses, iris, and lupines as well as many others that I couldn't name and were so tiny I couldn't get a decent photo of.

Cat puzzle

A purrfect fit? (Sorry, can't seem to stop myself when it comes to bad puns.) In a change from the normal procedure, George has crawled on top of Ginger in this picture.

Photos of Bochere Rand

Getting to the top of the popular posts ladder on jjobrienclimbing has never been easy.

I can't do it.

The 4 girls from Urban Climb Gym dubbed Urban Girls clipped that anchor and never lowered off.




A couple of years later jjobrien lined up Bochere Rand for a follow up post.





















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...If you want daily updates, at dawn, on the first thing that comes into her head.


































Climbers, you know I'm a sucker for a flamingredhead




jj

Ray of Sunshine

After a night of snow that continued through the morning, I thought for sure this would be a day of working at home. Then suddenly the snow stopped and it grew warm and sunny. And just as I stepped outside to get some coffee, the Co-Habitant came home early due to a change in his schedule. Our eyes met and we knew at once what the other was thinking: Bike ride!

This was the first time we've been on a real ride together in weeks. The Pashleys were ecstatic to finally roam freely in each other's company.

It grew so unseasonably warm, that the snow was all but melted by the bright sunlight.

Only this treacherous footbridge really posed a problem, as it was covered with patches of ice and hard snow. The Co-Habitant sped through it as if it was nothing, but I was more cautious after seeing one jogger after another slip on the ice patches.

When the sun began to set, it was one of those golden sunsets and the views were just beautiful.

I especially love the sun's reflection in the ice formations on the Charles River.

Sunlit cityscape in the distance, with that massive field of cracked ice stretching towards it. So magical.

As the sun set, we rushed to complete the trail loop so as not to be caught there in the dark. The Co-Habitant rides like a maniac, even on the slow and stately Pashley. He is much too fast for me, but I am too arrogant to ask him to slow down - so I brace myself, lean forward on the handlebars (this must look quite comical), and pedal as hard as I can. This time I even passed him a couple of times, which made me realise that riding the Pashley exclusively over the winter months, if only for commuting, has had some effect on my strength. He also complimented my improved leaning technique on turns, which pleased me immensely. Leaning on turns is one of those things that didn't come naturally at all. I guess now I finally got it, because I no longer have to think about it - the lean just happens and I even hold the inner pedal up without realising that I am doing it. It must seem silly to be excited by this, but you have no idea how uncoordinated and unathletic I am. The next goal is to conquer the "steer with your hips" thing. Maybe.

Our sun-drenched afternoon gave way to a surprisingly frigid evening, and after getting off the trail we hurried to seek shelter in a cafe. Once inside, I collapsed on the armchair - realising that I was completely depleted of energy. I was revived by hot coffee and a piece of dark chocolate, but unfortunately once we got outside it was even colder than before. We rode home with incredible speed just to warm up. My legs are now mush and I am so tired I can't think straight - but the ride was a welcome surprise in what has been a decidedly low-intensity season.

Next week I am leaving for Austria again and will be there for a month. Hopefully, when I return to the US spring will be in the air and I will be able to go on long rides again as often as I like. In the meantime, today's wonderful ride will be a nice thing to remember while I am abroad. And I have reason to believe that this time I might actually have a bicycle of my own while in Vienna - the person whose place I will be renting might have a spare. Either way, Lovely Bicycle shall continue relatively uninterrupted as it goes international again.

The Round House

It is no small task to describe the entity that is "Camberville" - that serpentine Somerville-Cambridge city line with its mazes of pocket neighbourhoods, unkempt grapevines, mysterious alleys lined with crumpling garages, and grandiose structures tucked away on sleepy side streets. Wandering through a neighbourhood you think you know, it is not unusual to encounter something wholly unexpected - perhaps a sidewalk treehouse, an enchanted forest, a small castle, or a warehouse-sized artisan incubator.






Very possibly I have cycled past the Round House before without taking much notice. The once-grand structure is not difficult to miss, now only a shadow of its former self. A lusciously overgrown garden torn out some years ago, a grass lot and chainlink fence now surround its bare walls, stripped of trim and embellishment. A thicket of condominiums stands in what was once an open space, blocking the house from view in certain directions.






But on this ghostly-quiet afternoon, I noticed it straight away. It was one of those humid days when the air stands still and the scent of flowers is sickly sweet. The weekend's explosion of lilacs was making me lightheaded. I cycled up a steep hill, and as I turned the corner onto a tiny one-way street the house appeared like a hallucination -backlit by the waning sun and tilting slightly to the left.






Stopping to have a look, I was distracted by the prominent signs discouraging trespassing. They struck me as so insincere as to almost be playful.





I was intrigued further by the curious discrepancy between the siding - which appeared newly installed - and the foundation, which seemed on the verge of collapse.






And then there was the bulging wall.






Strange to think that a Victorian-era locksmith is responsible for this cylindrical wonder. Inspired by the idea of octagonal houses floating around at the time, Somerville resident Enoch Robinson decided to take things one step further and build a round house. Constructed in 1856, the 3-story single family residence housed generations of Robinson's family.






It is not clear why the Round House was vacated and stood empty for so long. But by the 1980s it had its windowsand ornamentation removed, had suffered water damage and faced serious structural problems. There was talk of tearing it down, which, predictably, riled up residents who saw it as a landmark of historical value. Thankfully, it never came to that. Several years ago, the house was purchased by a developer with experience in historical preservation. He plans to restore the house and place it on the market as a single family home.






The Round House was created on a whim, to satisfy a personal interest - possibly an obsession, judging by the limited information I found on its creator. Yet by virtue of existing in a publicly visible and visitable space, it is also a communal resource, and will continue to be as ownership changes hands. How will the new residents feel about that, I wondered, eying the awkward battlements that surround the top story. I hope they plant a nice garden. Maybe some lilacs, dogwood and pines, against that stark beige facade.