My Father's Magic Carpet Made of Steel

In Thursday's blip, I talked about the swift-moving band of heavy snow that moved through our area on Wednesday evening, creating difficult travel conditions, but leaving behind a fairyland of snowy delights for Valentine's Day morning. By the time I took the bus home Thursday evening, all of the beautiful snow had fallen from the tree branches, and much of it had already melted. The new snow disappeared almost as fast as it had arrived!

Thursday, Valentine's Day, both my husband and I had to work. But we decided to take the day after off, to spend some time together. Our plans included sleeping late (with a tabby alarm clock, "late" being a matter of some negotiation), having breakfast out, and running around town accomplishing numerous errands. And so this is what we did, leaving the house in the morning and not arriving home again until late in the afternoon.

In our travels, we crossed at a railroad crossing. As I have mentioned in prior blips, my father was a railroad brakeman at the Enola yards near Harrisburg for more than 40 years. So trains and railroad tracks hold special appeal for me. Even if my father had not been a railroader, I think that as a photographer, I would still enjoy photographing the lines and angles of the rails.

There are so many great train songs that it is difficult to pick just one. But for this blip, the accompanying soundtrack is the wonderful Arlo Guthrie classic, City of New Orleans.

"And the sons of pullman porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel.
Mothers with their babes asleep,
Are rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel."

And the daughters of railroad brakemen? The rhythm of the rails and that magic carpet made of steel belong to us, too.