"The restlessness and the longing, like the longing that is in the whistle of a faraway train. Except that the longing isn't really in the whistle—it is in you."
"Quite possibly there's nothing as fine as a big freight train starting across country in early summer, Hardesty thought. That's when you learn that the tragedy of plants is that they have roots."
"....Well every time I fell behind, I could not get ahead.
I wish someone would pull the lever and give me a little sand.
And every time I slip behind, even further back,
I wish some switch man would come out of the fog and change my track..."
- From "Freight Train" by Alan Jackson
As we tramped amongst the rocks at Fish Creek, headgear damp with intermittent spits of the lowering mist, a freight train thundered across the shrouded trestle.
Many would think this disruptive, perhaps even shaking a fist skyward whilst exclaiming, 'Curse you, disturbing creature of man!'
But not me.
Partly because we'd already happened upon a recently wolf-mauled deer carcass, which qualifies as at least a day's quota of disturbing.
But mostly because I've loved trains from the summer I was 5-ish and siblings three rode for a couple hours in a passenger car to visit our grandparents in Red Deer, Alberta.
The rails have charmed me ever since.
So I smiled toward the receding roar, and enjoyed a bonus to an already favourite-things-filled day.