Winter nights are understandably cold, sometimes even bitter cold. Yet on those bitter-cold nights when the sky is clear, the universe opens up to us in its glory.
View from the Train
We all know those people who are always washing their hands and then use a paper towel to open the door. They will wear gloves on the train even in the summer—or the occasional surgical mask. They may be germaphobes, but with this flu season in full swing they may be the smart ones.
A recent illness gave me the experience of viewing a different form of transportation from the back of an Ambulet van. My condition was an arthritic infection in my right wrist. Thank goodness for a very astute wife who, in her RN experience, realized it was more than a sprained wrist and insisted we are going to the ER to get it checked out.
It is one of our warmer October days. Leaves are still falling. Butterflies are making their way around the plants on the deck. It is nice to be home early.
My headlights shone on something glittering in the blackness of morning as I pulled into my parking space under the tree. These days the station is dark for the early trains with the exception of some overhead lamps on the platform.
The devastation currently being wrought on the people of south Texas is heartbreaking. Hurricane Harvey is said to be the biggest disaster ever to hit the area, dropping over 11 trillion gallons of water on the region before it’s done. Our thoughts and prayers go out to those affected.
Well here we are smack in the middle of the dog days of summer. Normally we think of this time as the hottest part of the year and this year. As rainy as it’s been, we may have been spared some of the heat, but the summer is not over yet. Strangely enough, the expression does not actually refer to the heat but rather an astronomical event.
The Commodore, as he was known, built one of the largest railroad systems in the United States at the time. Leaving his shipping business behind, Cornelius Vanderbilt, along with other financial titans of the time, saw the future in the railroad.
Ah, spring has sprung, and the flowers are blooming, the grass is green, days are longer and every morning we awake to the songs of the birds. At approximately 6 o’clock each morning we hear a banging at our upstairs window; if the song birds didn’t wake you up this certainly will.
We all have done it; we go to the store with five things on our list and come back with four. We usually forget the one we went there for in the first place. I have done it so many times I almost always make myself a note, only to forget the note.