I learned two things this morning: 1. Riding your bike to work when its 19° outside will wake you up faster than a double cappuccino. 2. If you want to stop a road bike on a big patch of ice, you really gotta think ahead. It will likely involve sliding to a stop on your ass while your bike skids off in another direction. While not entirely devoid of pain, it is actually kind of fun… provided you’re not trying to dodge oncoming traffic in the process. The bruise forming on my hip is going to be a doozy. One of my coworkers tells me that you have to take one spill each winter. So I took mine, and now I’m in the clear for the rest of the season. We’ll see. I’m strongly considering getting some of those spiky tires for my mountain bike.

We tasted the Fresh Hop Porter the other night. It could use a little more time, but it is a tasty beer to be sure. There were a couple of hiccups in the bottling process for our next beer, the Alpenglow Espresso Stout, so we ended up with considerably less volume than I had hoped. I guess that means I’m going to have to start up another batch. I think I’ll just keep production rolling since not using the brew equipment just means that it’s in the way and needs to go back up into the attic. Perhaps a winter seasonal with some spices in it. A nice hearty nut brown, maybe, with hints of cinnamon, clove and nutmeg. On the other hand, I am kind of running out of room for beer storage.

I guess it’s time to bump up those plans for the storage closet area. That thing needs a serious purge. I just bought a book on canning and preserving. And while we are just past the season when such knowledge is useful, I’ve got big plans for living local next year. I’m planning on buying boat loads of vegetables next harvest season and putting up as much as I can. I’ll basically be turning the storage area into one giant winter pantry. Until then, I could use the space to store beer that is in its secondary fermentation process. Also going to keep eyes and ears out for a cheap used fridge to put in the garage (read beer-fridge).

The last few mornings I have wished that I had a camera affixed to my helmet. It’s almost not fair that I get to see this and no one else does. Gliding along in the morning sunlight under canopied arches of amber, red and gold colored leaves; feeling my cheeks fill with color to match, breathing puffs of steam … my legs find the rhythm of the season. Slower now. Slowed with intention, but not with great effort, like the relaxed release of breathing just before sleep.

The morning meditation, that is my ride, found me contemplating the following excerpt from Paul Hawken's Blessed Unrest:

• How do we sow our seeds when large, well-intentioned institutions and intolerant ideologies that purport to be our salvation cause so much damage? One sure way is through smallness, grace, and locality. Individuals start where they stand and, in Antonio Machado's poetic dictum, make the road by walking. Thoreau insisted in Civil Disobedience that if only one man withdrew his support from an unjust government, it would begin a cycle that would reverberate and grow. For him there were no inconsequential acts, only consequential inaction: "For it matters not how small the beginning may seem to be: what is once well done is done forever."