Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Hallmark Moment Perspective

I usually enjoy train travel, especially shorter, direct trips like the Rochester to Schenectady run I am on this morning. While I don't particularly relish getting up at 4:30 am to make a 5:00 am train (and there are other options, but I want as much time there as I can carve out), the three and a half hour trip is pleasant and the car not crowded.

Every once in awhile we slowed to let cargo trains pass on the adjacent rails, and it was during one of those moments just the other side of Rome that I was blessed by the most amazing scene - it could have come straight out of an Ideals magazine (if you have never seen a copy of Ideals, you should definitely look at one - they have gorgeous photography and memorable scenic displays accompanied by nostalgic stories and poems).

To the right of my window lay huge circles of baled hay, yellow and wire bound and ready for animal consumption. To the left was an apple orchard, the red apples peeking through the green leaves. At the back of the meadow that lay between the hay field on one side and the apple orchard on the other was a rustling corn field awaiting silage. Fall harvest at it most promising. But what capped the scene, brought that feeling of hearth and home, was the flock of wild turkey grazing in the open meadow, surrounded by so much goodness. There were 30 or 40 of them strutting and waddling about, as if all the relatives had come together for one last meal before scattering in light of the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday.

You could almost smell the cranberry sauce and feel the warmth of a steamy kitchen filled with apple pies and roasted fowl and simmering squash. For several long minutes I watched these gentle birds pecking the grass, feeling every bit the hidden observer of something ephemeral and precious. Later as I related the scene to my parents, I started to say I wished I had a camera to capture the picture. Before I could get the words out, my Dad interjected with, "Yes, you wish you had a gun! Free dinner!"

Ah, the generational divide.

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