WHATCHATHINKIN'

There is a routine at Backroads Central. Once the coffee has perked (or dripped, as it were), the outdoor furry and feathered critters are fed and we sit, mug in hand, watching the actual pecking order and kerfuffle outside our window.

We begin putting out seed and nuts around November, as the late fall weather starts turning, the flowers and foliage fall to the ground, and our outdoor friends begin foraging for food. It is great entertainment as the foofaraw unfolds around the various boxes and feeders.

As spring approaches, the variety and number of visitors increase. The juncos, who weather the winter, must share their perch with the skullduggerous cowbirds and the robins and occasional red-winged blackbirds, harbingers of spring, share the ground with the timid mourning doves. The emergence of the chipmunks, with their over-stuffed cheeks, bring joy to Spenser T. Cat and the melting pond ice will hopefully bring the return of our resident frogs.

Once the feeders show signs of carnage from visiting bear/raccoon/etc. our feeding comes to an end, to the great dismay of all the patrons. It’s quite funny to see the squirrels standing in the glass door, looking for the handout. Sorry little buddies, you are on your own.

Whatever flowers and plants have survived their overwintering indoors are moved to their summer spots, the hyacinth and tulips which have evaded the diggings of the squirrels begin to poke their heads from the still-chilled soil and the red buds on the trees hint at the leafy summer to come.

But perhaps the greatest sight of the coming of spring has nothing to do with the flora and fauna surrounding us. One March morning, and a rather warm one for this time of year, while tending to the inevitable cleanup needed around the yard, I heard that wonderful sound. The sound that means the better riding is around the bend, that the remnants of winter, with its salt, silt and road smudge, is coming to an end. Yes, our wonderful Sussex County Division of Public Works was doing their regular bang-up job of clearing the streets of the remainder of winter. The big orange sweeper, steadfastly making its way past Backroads Central, put a smile on my face and made me think of one of my favorite Jimmy Buffet songs, written by Mac MacAnnaly, It’s My Job:

In the middle of late last night I was sittin' on a curb

I didn't know what about but I was feeling quite disturbed

A street sweeper came whistlin' by

He was bouncin' every step

It seemed strange how good he felt

So I asked him while he swept

He said "It's my job to be cleaning up this mess

And that's enough reason to go for me

It's my job to be better than the rest

And that makes the day for me."

There are so many activities, processes and chores which happen at this time of year, ushering in the spring and transition from doldrums to delight. Spending more time in the motorcycles’ snuggery, better known as the garage or barn, readying them for all the trips they’ll be taking this upcoming year. Mounting fresh rubber, checking liquid levels, making sure all is tight or loose, as the case may be. Checking riding gear to be sure it’s up to snuff and all the essentials that live in the tank bag are replenished.

Then there is the choosing of where to go, which really should have been done during those dark winter days, but with the anticipation of summer is still an exciting thing to do. These days, with all the information available online and the digital format of most road trips, it is refreshing to simply get on the motorcycle, pick a direction, and see what the day brings. I just read this quote, “Wandering invites disappointment, but you also open the door for something new to go beyond your expectations.”

One of the best trip memories I have was when Brian and I traveled through England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales – we had no reservations, no real destinations, no GPS and the only time constraint was when we had to get back on the plane to come home.

This is going to be an amazing year and spring brings all the possibilities you can imagine. So dust off your skills, fluff up your saddle and set a course to adventure. Keep your mind open to possibility, your heart open to joy, and your wheels open to wandering.