A glowing hearth that rests above a heavy mantle of cloud. An afternoon memory that never sets.

Pinpoint of Majeure

As a child, I always found the sound of distant train horns relaxing, and especially mysterious late at night through an open bedroom window, amidst a song of frogs and owls.

As I grew up, the trains slowly became disused and the tracks abandoned for nature to reclaim. I often walk along them and to an old wooden trestle that reaches over 100 feet in height. It's a good place to survey the forest and savor old memories.

Bio

Memoirs