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Day 8 with Tilda-Hilda

It was a good ride this morning. The wind was with us as we went up the hills. We pedaled up the road along that hillside. It looks likes we traveled far. All in all, we did about a nine-mile loop in 51 minutes.  Pretty darn good for us old gals.

The Unobtrusive Apple

My ABC Wednesday theme: The Mama and her Authentic Green Thumb. . . and Fingers See the apple in the picture.  I didn't see it when I took a photo of the branches this morning. So, I was utterly surprised when I saw the apple in the image on the computer. The Mama and I didn't notice any blossoms on the tree earlier this year. I wonder how many other apples are hidden underneath the branches. Once I post this, I'm going outside to point out the unobtrusive apple to the Mama. Maybe we'll find others. By the way, this apple tree, as well as two other apple trees, grew from seeds that the Mama planted nearly 28 years ago. Yup, from apples that she ate. People told her the tree would not ever bear fruit. Ha! It's ABC Wednesday , a wonderful meme started by Denise Nesbitt and currently being administered by Roger Green and his wonderful ABC team. Come check out other U posts by bloggers from around the world.

Day 7 with Tilda-Hilda

Seven days back on the saddle. Yay! About 39 miles in all. Hurrah! Wish there was a way I could write while I pedal. My thoughts are mostly all forgotten by the time I get back home.  I don't want to talk into a tape recorder because it would distract me too much from the road.

Day 6 with Tilda-Hilda

Tilda-Hilda and I did a short ride today. We headed downtown to the bicycle shop. And, now the girl is looking happy with a brand-new front tire. No more bump, bump, bump for her.

Random Scenes: Girl Cousins

Setting: On a late Spring Friday afternoon, two 12-year old cousins are standing on the BART train platform in El Cerrito, a small city across the bay from San Francisco.   “The pony-tail lady in jeans and pink sweater," I said to my cousin who was a few months older than me. Whenever we’re in a public place, Sydney and I like to play a game of guessing what people are. “A dancer. Maybe a ballerina,” Twelve-year old Sydney said, gazing down the BART train platform. "See the old man with the silver cane behind her." “A retired guy from the government.” “The girl in overalls with a brown leather backpack.”  “Easy. College student, probably UC Berkeley." Sydney lowered her voice and said, "I've got one for you, Jeannie. The tall guy with the bald head and the blond ponytail." “Where?” “Behind you.” I squatted down and pretended to tie my shoe as I glanced at the man wearing a grayish-green raincoat, the belt hanging to the ground. He