It’s long past when I should be awake.
It’s long past when anyone should be awake. I suppose though, if that were true, stars might never have been charted and many a ship’s captain would be cursing to this day from Davy Jones’ locker.
The clock read 12:32 when I heard the sound of the train’s whistle. I smirked a little at the thought. If it were two hours later it would be 2:32. Everyone has a number that is significant to them. For Erik’s Daddy, it’s 232.
It was the sound that made me stir however. Some sounds can take you to another time and another place.
Every weekday at “just past 4” the little stucco house on Norfolk Street would shiver as the train rolled by. It was a lazy little freight train and it ambled by the house at no great speed. The house, built quite literally next to the tracks has only a drainage ditch and a few feet in between. The window in the dining room would first hum and then vibrate before you’d hear the train coming. It’s a funny little window. It’s placed too high to see out of without standing on your tip toes and too high to clean without a stepstool. It’s one of those things in a house that you look at and immediately think “after thought”.
I loved hearing that train whistle. It was a constant. It was dependable. More than anything it “sounded” like home. When the weather was warm I would run outside and wave as my train went by. I’d always get a wave back and sometimes a “helloooo”. It’s a fine thing to have a train in your childhood. Years later, I’ve often wondered how much convincing it took on Papa’s part to buy that little stucco house that was practically built on the tracks. I wonder if Mom really knew how it would shake that funny little window in the dining room.
Erik and I live close enough to the station to hear the trains in the distance. It’s a comfortable sound. It’s not my train by any means, nonetheless it’s a little like a familiar cousin as trains go.
The ironic thing is that I haven’t heard my train in almost twenty years. In 1988, the line between Simcoe and Port Dover, ON was abandoned. The Canadian National Railway had followed “the old pioneer river route” (along the Lynn River) in 1873. The train passed through the Lynn Valley where my own ancestors settled in the late 1700’s. Times change however, and the need for a freight train between these two towns faded into the past from which it came.
Today, The Lynn Valley Trail follows the same route that my train took; that same pioneer river route. Life has come full circle for this tiny corner of southern Ontario and that which was born of necessity is now a fine source of recreation and a means to preserve a rich heritage. From remnants of prairie to Carolinian flora and an opportunity to walk where the past has been – the train has been replaced by the trail once more.
I still miss my train. I’ll always miss my train. And yet it travels through my mind and sometimes at “just past 4” I hear the faint sound of a train whistle and turn to see if any of the windows are shivering from the sound. I realize just how agreeable it is to call to mind those things from our youth. Like a familiar fire, it warms us through.
Erik and I and The Sweet Potatoes are going on furlough!!
We’re headed to North Carolina next week and we’re going to see Nanny and Poppy!! Woohoo!!
I’ll be busy over the next few days readying clothes and gifts (shh!!) for the journey.
Now Erik’s parents live in a place called Cozyville and you can search until your eyes are aching and you won’t find it on the map. Cozyville happens to be what we call it. I’m told that it was Nik (Erik’s brother) who named it officially and for the record. All I know is that it fits. Their home is cozy. The atmosphere is cozy. The company is cozy.
For the all-too-short time that we’ll be there life slows and the only worry will be should we go for a walk “now or later”.
I’ll take a book with me. I probably won’t do more than carry it about. No matter.
Nanny has promised me a trip to The Tinkers (her Tuesday knitting group) and there is at least one Sweet Potato (Cassandra) who’s hoping for knitting lessons.
Nanny has promised to get me going on a knitted cat bed that I found the pattern for.
Nanny is going to be busy.
I’m looking forward to taking photos with things green in them. Although our weather’s been mild this winter, the landscape has been in shades of brown and grey. I am so ready for green!! Does life really GET better??
Saturday night…
It’s snowing. It’s promising to snow all night. It’s promising to snow most of tomorrow.
Erik and I ran errands today and did our marketing for the week. We had wanted to get an early start to the day but as Saturdays sometimes do, this one got away from us just a wee bit.
Treating ourselves to brunch out (we usually do this on Sunday mornings…re: storm) the start to the day was even later, but sometimes isn’t this what Saturdays are all about?? Erik opted for lunch and I leaned more towards the breakfast menu. It’s kind of nice that we can have these little differences and still manage to like one another so much. (Erik that was just for you. I knew it would make you smile.)
We were happy to have had such a leisurely meal because the stores and parking lots looked more like Christmas was on the way than just a winter storm. I was trying to figure out why people felt it necessary to stock up for winter when by Monday we’d have lovely clean roads again. Erik was the logical one explaining that not only were the Saturday shoppers out but the Sunday shoppers were out at the same time. I’ve decided that I do not have a logical mind.
Nearly Sunday morning…
It’s time to go and sit quiet with Erik before we tuck in for the night.
I wonder if the train whistle will wake me tonight.
With love from Butternut Grove,
Shelley
The Simple Pleasures
Train Whistles at “just past 4” or at 12:32
Lynn Valley
The little stucco house on Norfolk Street
A dining room window that hums and shivers and vibrates
Trains, trails and memories
“the old pioneer river route”
Past, present and past again
Furlough!!
Nanny and Poppy
The Tuesday Tinkers
Sweet Potatoes
Brunch out with My Erik
Watching the snow fall
