How fitting it is that I visit a state park by the name of Sleepy Hollow as Halloween quickly approaches. It is a nice little place in the countryside on the eastern edge of Clinton County, just northeast of Lansing.

Yesterday, I made the half-hour journey with my mother and brother from my parents’ house to the state park. We rode around the park and marveled at the scenery. The water was still and the colorful trees reflected in the water.

It was a fairly easy ride for me . . . to start with. I rode with my brother, Tom, for about an hour. He was riding a mountain bike, so I was holding back quite a bit as Jake, all pimped out with slick road tires, wanted to be unleashed on the pavement. When Tom and I made our way to the park entrance, I took off for a quick out-and-back ride on the nearby roads. Details: 1 hour 35 minutes, God only knows how many miles. I’ll have to break out an e-map to estimate my mileage.

Many of you are way too familiar with the following:

There is a VERY good reason why I reposted this video, even though you may be quite sick of it by now. Actually, there are three reasons. Many of you are quite aware of my history with attack squirrels. Never have I dealt with such evil creatures as I did yesterday.

Squirrel incidence #1. As Tom and I were riding down a road within the park, a squirrel ran in front of me without any regard to the presence of me and Jake.

Squirrel incidence #2. As Tom and I were approaching the park entrance from within the park, a little squirrel ran out in front of me and barely missed my front tire. His reaction to me and Jake was to throw his nut and run back to the side of the road from which he came. As it happened, my reaction was something like, “Oh, HELL NO, you little sh!t! Get the hell out of here!” Tom was a little ways behind me. As he approached the site of the offense, the little squirrel returned to retrieve its nut.

Squirrel incidence #3. Shortly after I turned onto Shepardsville Road, near the beginning of my solo ride, just as I was achieving a fairly respectable speed, a squirrel launched from a nearby tree from about 15 to 20 feet above me and landed just to the side of my bike and ran in front of me. Little #!*&!!! Seriously! I saw Mr. Squirrel’s trajectory as he aimed to pounce on me!

You guys think I’m joking when I write about squirrels, but I am serious when I say that there is a foundation for the Moronacity campaign against squirrels (M.C.A.S).

I stopped.

“That’s a bear!” I thought to myself. “No, it can’t be. Yet, I surely know perfectly well that it could be a bear.” I decided it was a bear. It was a bear. It was a bear.

Ok, now that that was established, I turned to call my dogs toward home, but stopped as I saw Marji taking a poo and decided to simply stop and think for a moment. “Do I really want to head in that direction without a bike and with two obstinate wieners following? Not really.” Then, I thought I really had no choice unless I wanted to walk for two or three more hours around my large, country block. I could’ve cut across the back of my property, but that was clearly where the bear was heading, and even worse, that is where millions of ticks could reside. I headed straight for home. I also stopped to look for bear tracks, but I really didn’t know where the bear crossed and it was difficult to find footprints on my gravel road.

The wieners and I made it safely home and curled up on the couch together to read the other half a novel we started the night before. Actually, I read the novel. Cori and Marji just slept, barked to go outside, stared at me, and ran toward the walls whenever the vicious squirrels ran across my wood siding.

I hope all of you have had a wonderful weekend and continue to enjoy the Easter season. Easter lasts 50 days. Many cyclists in the northern hemisphere, whether they believe in God and celebrate Easter or not, view the Easter season – the bulk of spring – as the time to break out the bike and start riding. The days are getting longer and everything is preparing for rebirth. Soon, the trees will begin sprouting their leaves, weeds will flourish, and cyclists will be hitting the roads and the trails in all their glory. Many of us realize that the squirrels never went away, so they are not a sign of spring. They are a sign that they have been there all this time making those scratching noises on your roof.

Altar at St. Albert the Great, Houghton, Michigan, USA. The Easter Vigil Mass is to begin sometime after dark and end before sunrise. It is to take place at night. The lights are out when the mass begins.

As a Catholic, I had the pleasure of celebrating Mass on Holy Thursday, service on Good Friday, the Easter Vigil Mass on Saturday, and the Easter Sunday Mass. It isn’t just a lot of church. The four days unfold the death and resurrection of Christ. It is four days of worship, reflection, enlightenment, and the gift of the spiritual family – those who are not of blood relation, but who are there to offer love and support when needed, and to share in joy when life is going well. I felt a strong sense of community at my church this weekend.

The Mass begins at the site of a fire. In our church, it was in the basement by the fireplace. It is traditional to start outside, weather permitting. Everyone is given a candle and the congregation processes into the church.

I told Father Larry last night, after the Easter Vigil, that things went so naturally. That is a special way of putting it. You see, there are so many events taking place during the Easter Vigil Mass that are not commonplace for any other Masses of the year. There is a lot of preparation and practice beforehand. Things didn’t just go well last night; they flowed. We sang, prayed, laughed, and even had an ice cream social at midnight. It was the very example of what God wants for communal prayer, for the Mass. It is about people coming together and sharing in God’s love.

The Liturgy of the Word is done by candlelight. Afterwards, the church lights are turned on and the candles are extinguished.

I haven’t been a kid for quite some while, now, but I still like to color eggs and put together an Easter basket. I love tradition, which is one of the reasons why Catholicism suits me so well, and I will never think that anyone is ever too old for the Easter bunny, even if he is your alter ego.

I came home from church last night and broke out the egg coloring kit. I sleepily went about the coloring process while dreaming of slumbering in my room. It was worth it, though, to wake up to the colorful, friendly little eggs peering at me out of their basket.

How do you feel about eggs staring at you? They’re laughing at you . . .

The Easter bunny stuffed my basket full of Dove dark chocolates and caramel-filled milk chocolates along with some eggs and jelly beans. It’s the perfect basket fit for an adult!

An Easter basket fit for an adult.