kits

To be honest (and I'm always fairly honest) I do think that most male cyclists look pretty darn good in their team kits. (that's the matching jersey and shorts they wear that are plastered in the non-masonry sense with logos and verbage of their sponsors, in case you aren't familiar with the term.)
I prefer those that don't have too much white on the shorts, but the relief of some white from the rest of us black-bottom-clad people out there is nice.
it's nice as well when the bodies underneath the kits are muscular and fit, and nicest of all when the person inside the body underneath the kit is kind and friendly.
I see quite a few team kits while I'm out riding, and I'm always reading fronts as they come toward me on the opposite side of the road, and sides and backs as they pass me going my same direction. there are quite a few I recognize now, and though I don't personally know anyone who rides for a team and wears their kit each time they ride, it's a fun little hobby to keep tabs on which team names are flying past me.

but I really want to write about another kind of kit today.
yesterday morning on my way down to little dell reservoir (on my bike, silly, I would never drive my car there), a little fox face popped up at me from between the tall grasses on the right side of the road. it was the sweetest little face! and this was just two miles after a young fawn had hopped onto the road right in front of me and bounced along at almost my pace before hopping the guardrail and moving back down into the shrubs below.
the descent from little mountain (emigration) summit down to the reservoir has two stages, a nice first drop, with a pause as the road wraps around a jutting foothill and then a second drop that takes you down to the water.
this little fox was peeping out during the mid-section, and I had enough time to see him and be thrilled before rounding the corner and finishing the lovely down, all the way to the reservoir's edge. I performed my great swooping circle there (I call them joy spirals), and headed back up the first stretch, wondering if my little fox friend would still be there.
he was: he came out and took a joy spiral of his own, then went back into the grass so that only his face peered out, sat down, and looked expectantly forward. I stopped and stared at him, his cute little face, and his apparent adherence to his mother's admonition to "stay right here, I'll be back soon."
I soon left him and pedaled away, singing my silly fox song, absolutely thrilled to pieces with my non-cycling kit sighting.

then came today.
I saw a doe a mile up the canyon, misty in the early morning light, and as I climbed the canyon I debated whether or not I would go all the way to the water. sometimes it's nice to crest the summit, turn around, and head home, reaching said destination twelve minutes sooner, allowing a little more time for coffee and the appreciation of cool air coming in my windows. this morning I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, so I left the decision up to my mood at the top.
my mood at the top was pretty joyful, as no one had passed me and I hadn't seen another cyclist for over five miles ~ I like my solitude.
so I went over the top and began my initial swoop, the air a bit cooler on this side, filling me with peace. I reached the "pause" section and pedaled, looking out toward the south, and suddenly to my right I saw a little fox face, peering out at me from between the tall grasses. oh, oh! did mama never come back? was he still being obedient??
caught completely by surprise, I kept pedaling and descended the second stretch, with hurry, hurry, in my head, hurry and climb back up to see if he'll still be there!
the answer is yes, he was, and he even came out on the road a bit, this little but not-too-little kit, his back maybe twelve inches from the ground, his feet black and his tail ringed, his little face and ears shaded with black. but wait, there was another one, oh my gosh, there were two!
still approaching the peering-out spot, I was pedaling so slowly I was almost stopped, as I saw a third one dash across the road and playfully jump at one of the others.
okay, now I had to stop. they frolicked and jumped in and out of the grass, then two ran across the road and up the steep hillside until I could see one high above me, looking out over his reign.
three little kits, with just a dash of white upon them, and no logos or verbage at all.

I sighed deeply, and finally began pedaling away when I remembered the camera function of my phone in my back pocket. duh. I stopped, turned around, rode back a ways, then pulled the phone out and tried to remember how to find the camera button. I didn't dare get too close, not wanting to scare them, but I fear I didn't get close enough at all. alas, you will just have to take my word for the fact that I saw three of the best looking kits ever, early this morning, on a swooping hillside near little dell.