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Beaufort by Bike

beaufortblossoms.jpg On the backstreets of downtown Beaufort it’s warm enough to ride my bike without wearing a jacket, and traffic is hushed enough to hear the songs of birds. My bike glides up and down the neighborhood streets with little effort from me, almost as if it was being pushed by the breeze.
I crane my head up to see the stately houses as I ride; pink, mint green, and some in standard white with black shutters. There are cobble stoned courtyards, ivy covered fences and gates, hibiscus lined verandas, and trees. A gentle breeze blows the Spanish moss hanging from the limbs of the gigantic sprawling live oaks and carries a sweet scent that smells something like rose mixed with orange.
I’m not the only one enjoying the charm of the neighborhood. A horse and buggy full or tourists, waving as they pass, trots by.
I can’t help but smile at the sight of people outside, not working at their jobs or in front of the TV. I pass a man sitting in a rocking chair on his porch doing what I guess is a crossword puzzle. One woman is on her hands and knees digging in her flower garden, another is watering a hanging basket of ferns on her sky-blue colored porch. A boy on a tricycle peddles by with what I assume is his nanny walking next to him.
The sound of a military jet startles me out of my peace. I stop and get off my bike to take a picture of a small tree in bloom. It’s pink.

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