Down by the River

It was a sunny, Sunday afternoon and I was sick to death of moping around the house, avoiding chores. So I grabbed my bike and my camera and headed down the Shelby Bottoms greenway.

The river trail is a quick 10 minute bike from our front door, down some lovely shady hills and through Shelby Park. The park and the greenway follow the curves and broad swathes of the Cumberland River. Pedaling alongside, I thought of how this water meets the Ohio in Kentucky, my new river and my old river mingling.



At the five-mile mark I rode up this little hill and stood for a spell on the Shelby Bottoms Bridge.



It was a beautiful day; the river was slow but it was windy on the bridge.



But who is that downstream?

While making my way down the trail I kept spotting a riverboat on the Cumberland, flashes of white where ever the trees thinned and the path veered toward the water. I tried to race her but lost track while biking through a field of tall grass and ironweed flowers and sumac far from the shore. I was elated when I discovered I had beat her to the bridge. As she passed underneath the PA system was playing a weird electronic version of "Rocky Top". A few other cyclists and I waved at the people on the top deck.



On the way home I took a leisurely spin through Shelby Park, including a jaunt under my favorite park landmark:


Sidenote: I took a long walk through the park on the first warm day of last spring, and my favorite memory was standing in the tall grass by a swamp watching the silhouette of a train race across that blackened trestle.

After the uphill climb back to our little cottage I found myself revitalized and with the renewed strength to get up and do what needs to be done (ie: listening to the encore of Prairie Home Companion and heating up plates of leftovers in the toaster oven.)