Dirt Goblin.

My garden is growing!

The radish seed sprouted within four days. Since the photo was taken, the spinach has gone from seed to seedling. So far, the garden hasn’t been much work. The rain has taken care of the soil’s watering for the past few days. Several mystery plants have cropped up uncomfortably close to the seedlings. I haven’t ripped them out because they are on the edge of the other tenants’ section. And these folks probably haven’t ripped out these rogue plants because they’re worried they might belong to me. So, if weeds start taking over, it’ll be because of the lack of communication among us.

I haven’t started a new sewing project yet. I want to design and sew my own garments, but I should practice with premade patterns first. A local fabric store has a collection of Victorian fashion patterns that look fun to make. But what would I do with a Victorian evening gown once I’ve finished making it? At the moment, gardening is a much more practical hobby.

Last week’s rainy weather kept me off the bike. I made it to Saturday morning’s group ride, though. I showed up despite not knowing anyone who was going to be there. The guy I introduced myself to introduced himself by fingerspelling his name! I then appointed him to introduce me to everyone as Laura the Deaf so that folks understand why I don’t engage in any heavy-breathing chit-chat.

I noticed a bunch of heads nodding in acknowledgement. Sadly, the recognition wasn’t mutual. On top of being unable to gossip on the go, I spend 99% of the time looking at these people’s backs. That is until I got a flat 90 minutes into the ride. Fortunately, I’d packed a tube this time. I rarely get flats as I keep an eye on my tires, but the rear tire had some mildly concerning wear. When I asked Yann a few weeks ago whether I should replace the tire, he advised replacing it the next time I get a flat.

One of the guys pulled over with me. As he’d been the only person to stop, I urged him to go on without me. Then, I noticed four people had turned around to check up on things. At that point, I decided I’d ask him if he had a mini pump, as all I had was a CO2 inflator that I’d never used.

I’ve changed thousands of tubes over the years. Rarely do I have an audience. Rarely do I use a mini pump: I’m an air compressor, Princess. So, I skillfully popped my rear wheel out of its drops, removed the tire, swapped the tube for a fresh one, and popped the tire bead back on the rim. I needed help with the mini pump, though. (It’s been a year since I’ve gone rock climbing, so I have noodly Chris Froome arms now.)

And I got help. Not only that, but when I started fading in the last 20km of the ride and slipped too far back behind the paceline, the sub-group I rode with waited for me. I was touched by their kindness and also started questioning whether I was ready for rides of that magnitude.

I am fast, but these Saturday morning rides are 90km and I’m used to 50-60km rides. Also, the route is mostly flat and my skills are in the hills. I think–and hope–I’ll find my long-distance legs in the next month.

And by June, I could do the Oxford Hill Climb in White Rock.