The Golden Rails at Dusk

And then the temperatures rose and we got a real late-November gift: a beautiful, warm, almost summer-like day! I was working at home on this morning, when out of the blue, my husband said, "You know, it's such a nice day out. This afternoon, I'm at least going over to Bald Eagle Creek to enjoy the day and sit in the sun." Before my brain even knew what my mouth was saying, the words came out: "Great! I'll go with you!"

And so it was that I declared an impromptu half-day of vacation to seize the day. I finished up the couple of things I had to deal with on the work front, and by shortly after noon, we had tossed our daysacks, chairs, and coolers in the car and were setting out on a mini adventure not too far from home. We stopped and picked up some library books awaiting us at the Bookmobile, grabbed a pair of Italian hoagies at the local bistro, and headed for the wild woods and waters.

It was warm enough that we were both wearing shorts and t-shirts. And just in case, we brought our water shoes along as well. And so, even though there were still pockets of ice on the slower eddies of the creek, the first thing we did when we got there was to put on our water shoes and walk in the waters of the creek. I am here to report that it was truly frigid, and after the recent heavy rains of the weekend, the water was running a bit high and muddy. However, the temps were warm, between 65 and 70 degrees F; and so once out of the water, our feet didn't stay cool for very long.

In the midst of changing weather systems, the sky was full of dramatic clouds all day long, and during our afternoon adventure, we enjoyed a mix of clouds and sun. We stood in the middle of the creek and watched the reflections of the sky drama on the waters. Light on water: when heaven comes down and becomes one with the earth.

Surprisingly ravenous, we split the first Italian hoagie the minute we got there, before we even got out of the car. The second hoagie, we split in the late afternoon, just before leaving to head home. The second was even better than the first, if that is possible: good deli meats and cheeses and fresh lettuce, tomato, and onion on a fine Italian bread. (Does food always taste better in the woods? I sometimes think it does.)

And with the afternoon drawing to a close, as my husband was warming up the car to go, I walked up to the railroad tracks and stood in the middle of the rails to get a last few shots. In the fading light, the gentle mountains swelled before me, mostly brown in late November; and the train tracks shone golden with light against a dramatic, cloudy sky.

The song: The Highwaymen (Johnny, Kris, Waylon, and Willie), Desperados Waiting for a Train.