"What's the point of living . . ."

 Here are a some pictures from recent bike rides.  

This is a tunnel under a road I go on my main bike ride.  As I ride into the dark it takes a second for 
for my eyes to adjust and I have to be careful because sometimes there's someone sleeping in there.  The first graffiti, if it's hard to read, says, "What's the point of living if there isn't any fun?"  The second one says "I don't want to die without any scars."   (You can click on the image to enlarge it.)

Goose Lake, from this point, changes every day.  

Across the parking lot from Goose Lake is a ball field.  This morning as I came by people were carrying their folding chairs for what looked like church services.  They seemed to be sitting distanced, but I didn't really want to get closer to find out details or check on how many had masks.  

After I got home I made the frittata and as I sliced the mushroom, I loved the pattern.  

There's so much to write about, but I don't seem to have the time to say something that hasn't already been said.  This sort of post is probably better for people's mental health anyway.