The window of the upstairs office looks out onto my back yard. Seven years ago I finished building the studio- an ambitiously crazy present to myself for my 50th birthday. Behind it is the fence company and then you reach the railroad tracks. All told, the tracks are probably less than 300 feet away from where I’m sitting.
When we moved here I was sure that the sounds of the train would keep me up at night. These weren’t the romantic train sounds of my youth- the low clacking of distant wheels, a dying whistle floating through a summer window. Still, there’s something inherently romantic about train tracks. So much possibility.
The outside temperature is 17 ˚F but this morning I’m thinking about summer.
Swimming Walden Pond
