Zero dark thirty and sunup was still at least an hour away. I love riding my bike at this hour, when few people are afoot. Gliding through the light that is neither night or dawn, the fresh morning air is a boon to my spirit. Cornfields taller than me obscure my view of the valley, the Cascade mountains rising a deep indigo blue in the distance. A very slight hint of colour begins to tint the sky towards Hope.
Tires crunch loudly on gravel as I turn south on the dike, leaving the silence of the pavement behind. Mist floats across the valley, just above the many cornfields as sprinklers shoot their plumes of water over the myriad of farms, their ch-ch-ch floating in the soft morning air. Occasionally on my ride, I have to stop and time the rotation of the sprinklers, or accept that I'm going to get wet.

I love riding by the farms, one with goats cavorting in their paddock, pausing mid-play to stare curiously at the apparition riding by. Past the goats is a large blueberry farm, the bushes laden with fruit. And then, everyone's favourite, the dairy cows out in the field. Some days they are near the river at the far end of the field, and others they are near the gate, expecting me to provide their morning grain. Occasionally I'll see the farm owner driving his ATV along the dirt road, his arm raised in a morning wave.
At this point, I'm right next to the Fraser River and for some reason, I always stop under the bridge to check the water level. At this hour, traffic is light and the noisy clamour of heavy trucks and cars above me is sporadic. With the river on one side, and cornfields on the other, I ring my bell to forewarn any bears that may be hiding. Up and over a couple of small but steep hills, a footpath has narrowed significantly with overgrown brambles and weeds.

A bench had been situated between the two hills, looking out over the river, the two farmers kind enough to allow the public access to their property. I miss that bench and its unique and rough appearance. Apparently, it is situated safely in a family members garden.

Heading back towards home, a very rough rocky and pothole filled road between a blueberry farm and hay field has me weaving in and around like an old drunk. It appears to be a bumper crop of blueberries this year, having enjoyed them from our local produce store. I keep promising myself that one of these days, I'm going to stop to take pics of the burgeoning blueberries.
Back on pavement and over a culvert, the slough's water level has diminished again. After the drought last year, it really has not recovered and the abundance of ducks and birds has greatly depleted.
It is still very early and the sun has not risen enough to top the mountains, although it is daylight by all intents and purpose. More farms stretch across my vista and turning east towards home, a train clacks by, the heavy engine making a deeper rumble compared to the rail cars. It's great when it stops traffic on the main drag near the museum and I can cross the road without having to wait for traffic to clear.
Cruising down the two blocks of the 'main drag' of town, huge baskets of petunias hang heavily from light standards, a testament the city has done a stellar job of caring for them. The museum, the old CP train station, also sports these beautiful baskets. I always find them to be so visually appealing and a real 'welcome' to our town.
Sixteen point three kilometres later, humanity is starting to stir and I'm back home, waiting for my first cup of coffee. To me, there is nothing like the time of morning where the light is between night and day and quiet reigns.
Enjoy every moment of the day.
Andrea
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