Tracing the site lines
Overnight, we received the first true taste of winter weather. The schools were delayed by an hour, but our lane was blown clean by daylight. Outside, a true “snowshoe paradise”, if anyone wondered. I had to get the shovel and remove a solid 30 cm from the deck; an excuse for exercise, and a bet against anything else coming down, wet or otherwise. The weight. Always about the weight.
Even the dog took the heavy slogging to heart, when he found himself mysteriously free of the cord. Didn’t go far, and he came back as soon as I called. Reassuring to see that he’s leaving that whole puppy-free mentality behind in exchange for a comfortable bed and a never empty food dish.
This evening, I got out the maps and tried to locate the site of a railway station that has been gone for half a century. The building is elsewhere, and the lot shows nothing but tree cover. Happily, roads are less simple to erase, and I was able to find myself using the tools available. Aerial photos. Topographical maps. Old timetables. Not that it matters any more, but finding where the rails ran is still important (to me). Goes hand in hand with memories. And when the memories are gone, what else is left. I don’t want to find out, just yet.
My movie drive arrived and is now in the possession of son #2. Give credit to the postal people; they do get things right, sometimes. Now if Amazon could do as well with my tiny package of rails and bolts (rack hardware, lost in transit).
