I love riding the train. There is something so calming about the rocking motion, the sounds of the wheels rolling along the tracks and the flashing scenery that passes outside the window. I always think I'll be able to read whole novels when on a long train trip, but I can never resist gazing out the window until dark is so fully present that there is no choice but to settle down with a book, the artificial light glaring over your should and onto the white printed pages.
It's barely 3:00 pm and already the light is changing. I hadn't thought when I booked my tickets how early the night would come. I'm on the north side of the car and as we head west towards Albany, NY, the sun occasionally peeks through the clouds to warm the few autumn leaves that remain on the trees. If only I could have just a few extra hours of light.
Riding through western Massachusetts and into New York, the train tracks often parallel a river or stream or small country road. Lots of trees - most bare of leaves, except for the pines and a few oaks or maples clinging to the fall, resisting the onset of winter. Fewer houses - white clapboards, yellow Victorians, red New England squares. Some farms - old brown barns, listing to the side, or new ones standing strong and capable. Marshes - wide and full of dying trees and strangling clusters of weeds that look like tiny islands pushed up against each other. Fields - green waves of grass or the dry beige of dead corn stalks. An occasional town - the main street short, a church spire dominating the skyline around the businesses that make up the town's heart. And then the bigger towns - houses side by side, factories, old brick warehouses, boys with baseball caps, girls in animal print leggings, blue collar taverns that have seen better days.
We've arrived early to Albany. At 5:00 pm it is dark. Dad is now in Springfield and Albany. Until next time...
No comments:
Post a Comment