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The Grass is Most Definitely Greener…

…in which I talk about the futility of lawn care in the Texas summer.

So, when I was growing up in Connecticut, we didn’t have a lawn at all. We lived in the deep woods surrounded by rich deciduous trees that would support nothing beneath their canopy but a thick layer of mulched leaves and moss. In those youthful days of frolicking in the rough, often brambly undergrowth of the New England forestry, I dreamed of nothing more than a lush green lawn with grass so thick it was like carpet that tickled your toes on warm summer days. What I got, however, was a house in Texas with a dry, desolate excuse for a lawn, with grass that is almost perpetually in hibernation.

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Cycling

The Mechanical Equivalent of Heat…

…in which I talk about cycling in the Texas summer.

I’ve refrained from complaining about the heat because I know everyone is sick of Tweets declaring the obvious “It’s Hot” sentiments, or even worse, photos of thermometers, which are often suspect. Nevertheless, I feel like I should write a little bit on riding in the blistering sun because it seems like any time someone learns that I’m still riding every day, they respond with a sentiment of awe or amazement. And while I do in fact continue to ride, I am more filled with a sense of pride rather than surprise at my persistence and dedication. But more than anything else, I’m proud of my change in outlook.