The clerk at the gas station mini-mart recognized the brevet card before I could say a word and took out a pen to sign it. This must be a popular permanent. It took me longer to decide on a purchase than it took to get the card signed and receipt in hand. Not quite ready to eat just yet, I bought an OJ, tucked it into my rack bag and set off.
The temps would rise that day. I imagined it would be at least thirty degrees warmer by mid afternoon, but the warmth seemed slow to arrive as though the earth itself was reluctant to greet the day. Through a languid morning on roads all but free of traffic, past quiet farms, I spun forward into silence.
At mid-morning, warmth flowed back into my toes. I wiggled them in delight, happy for the sensation.
Everywhere in Amish country seems to honor the sabbath. Corn stands stand empty in front of harvested fields. Wind blows unhindered. Couples, dressed in black, walk long stretches down rural roads. Even the cows are in repose.