Wilbur: Are you writers?
Charlotte's daughters: No, but we will be when we grow up.
Wilbur: Then write this in your webs, when you learn: This hallowed doorway was once the home of Charlotte. She was brilliant, beautiful, and loyal to the end. Her memory will be treasured forever.
Charlotte's daughters: Ooh, that would take us a lifetime.
Wilbur: A lifetime. That's what we have.
If you've trained with me you know that at some point the chit chat does stop and the work begins. When the Master says fast I ride fast, fast enough conversation is not an option. I take work/rest seriously and stay on task. Usually. But today we all made a new friend!
It was convectively unstable here today, that is cold air was coming in from the west unwilling to wait for the warm, slow moving southern air we had enjoyed to mosey along eastward. When, in cycling terms, the "catch" is made warm air gets trapped under cold and thunderstorms are born. It was that kind of morning but looking at the radar it looked like I could squeeze my 2 hours in. The WO was not a kind one, with several long fast pieces in it. I rode out to the Queen J (formerly 9 mile road) and headed east, cognizant of the fact this would mean coming home in a growing wind as the weather moved up from the southwest.
I was in the rest over the top of the pyramid, fighting the wind with my head down slumped over the bars on my venerable P3c heading back west near Dirt Side Road when I looked up and there he was: Wilbur
(his actual name given by his owner), a happy little Vietnamese Pot-Bellied pig! I did a double take, stopped and he ran up and started sniffing my bike and demanding pets (and gummies), which he got plenty of (well, pets that is). His person soon came out, along with her 2 big dogs but Wilbur would not come when called! He preceded to snort, run across the road and be a naughty little piggy. His person fetched him (see the pictures) below. I wished you had the sound. Upon capture he was, well, literally, squealing like a pig. It was so cool. I was petting the big black dog at the time who seemed very mellow about the whole thing.
AO and others we venture with out with this way, I sure hope we get to see him again, he was so cool and 'fess up, specially the guys who read this, anyone here going tell me they didn't cry when Charlotte died? This Wilbur was that humble! What a T-E-R-R-I-F-I-C ride today. No cracks about reading this "on the web" and I've got to get ready for the half tomorrow, so g'night (oooh, BTW also saw a cat running across the road with a mouse in its mouth).
PO,
boB
I sure hope Wilbur lives out there on the Queen J - you're sure he wasn't just visiting or something? Would much rather meet him than the usual mangy curs that run out at us! My librarian in elementary school would cry every time she read that book aloud to us (which I swear she did every year from grade 2 to 7)
ReplyDeleteThis is Ann.
But hey, the first time you read it you had to be choked, right? And you'll love our Queen J Wilbur! He's a card.
ReplyDeleteI can remember crying when reading "Jumping Mouse" aloud to the kids. They were horrified.
ReplyDeleteOh my gosh, yes. I cry at the drop of a hat. There were certain books I couldn't even read to our kids because I couldn't get through them. I can't even look at that Robert Munsch book Love You Forever!
ReplyDeleteThis is Ann.
Or that book with no words about the snowman who comes to life and plays with the kids then melts. Never again, I hate to even think about it. I'm more of a "Hop on Pop" guy (try to read it as fast as possible) but it tended to get the kids more giggly and wired rather than sleepy!
ReplyDelete