As if my aging decrepitude wasn't enough to remind me to keep a tight reign on my fabulosity, I've got this confounded 'old man' up-before-dawn thing running buck wild through me now. The only thing I'm missing is a nice lawn so I can yell at the kids to get off of it. That noted, it's an enchanting evening here in the high mountain meadows. The rain is gone and there's a gentle stillness to the night. No wind, and very little else to perturb the tranquility.
In due time I'm sure a train will come rumbling along the tracks adjacent to my property. Out here in the west, the rail lines are the blood of life. Here in Fort Collins they follow the front range and snake directly through town. Their air horns rattle the sensibilities of some of the more moneyed classes and there is a bit of political friction in regard to their application. To me they suffice as the church bells of industry and instill a nostalgic memory of my youth. I didn't grow up on the wrong side of the tracks, I straddled them.
#hoboheretic Enjoy.