Frog chorus

We got a late start; breakfast and errands held us up until around noon. But we eventually hopped on our bikes and headed towards Sonoma, for some wine. We headed out as if we were just riding down the street to the winery, but really we were headed over a 25-mile mountain road to a winery for a few sips, a sandwich and a few minutes rest.

The sun began to set a few miles into our trip home. We navigated by twilight; the air was cooling down, the smell of grasses and mustards becoming more vibrant. By the time the sun had given us its last light, we were only halfway home. Up and down over the hills. We rode past vineyards we had only seen by day, through the oaks and the meadows. At the bottom of the valley the frog chorus grew louder and louder until we were surrounded by ribbits and croaks. It seemed like if you reached to either side, you could scoop up buckets of frogs. But we glided on by and their song soon faded into the distance.